Over Sea
by Pixxi
Summary: Please read and review!
1. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and any other   
tangentially mentioned characters created by J. K. Rowling remain her   
copyrighted property, as well as the copyrighted property of her   
publisher, etc. No copyright infringement is intended. All original   
characters created by the author remain her property.   
  
  


Over Sea  
  
Chapter One: A New Beginning  
  


Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I'd gotten my way on that frigid August morning. Staying at home was very much preferred to going anywhere with my aunt a year ago, and yet, if I had that day, I'd probably have ended up as miserable and sour as her. Even at the undeveloped age of eleven, I was beginning to show a sharpness and bitterness that I generally attributed only to my relatives.  
I am, and always will be, a late and heavy sleeper. Sayings like "the early bird gets the worm" are a crock to me. Aunt Jane, on the other hand, has the perpetually annoying habit of rising with the sun and then carrying on, making breakfast as though it was going to be the day the world died. Banging pots and pans, whistling loudly and out of tune, washing dishes that are perfectly clean, and cooking things that have a tendency to sizzle loudly are her favorite morning activities. On this particular day, I was determined to ignore the noise drifting up from downstairs and stay in bed as late as I could without coming to blows.   
"Malory!," she screeched. "Get yourself out of bed and help me with the dishes!"  
Just pretend, I grumbled to myself. Just pretend she's not there.  
"Malory! MALORY-JANE!"  
I began counting the cracks on the ceiling above me.  
"_MALORY-JANE!_ GET YOURSELF DOWN HERE AND HELP ME WITH THESE DISHES!"  
Something in me snapped. Guise of ignorance forgotten, I shouted back, "You know perfectly well that the dishes are perfectly damn clean!"  
"Do not use that tone of voice with me young lady!," she shrieked back.  
I had to smile. I could swear as much as I wanted, I knew, and she'd still go on about my friggin' tone of voice. "I'll do whatever the hell I want!," I yelled back.  
Footsteps stomped angrily up the rickety attic steps. Oh no, I thought wearily.  
"Malory-_Jane!_"  
I hated it when she used my full name. It reminded me that my mother and my aunt had been related at one point. "What?," I snapped irritably, blinking in the gray morning light.  
She threw a coat at me. "Get dressed. We're out of eggs."  
I stared at her blankly. "So?"  
"You're coming with me to market." She stomped back down the stairs.   
I followed her up to the railing and demanded, "Why can't we just go to Kroger's, for God's sake! Like any NORMAL human beings, hanh?" My aunt diligently insisted every month on going to the noisy, smelly, dirty street market as opposed to the Kroger's across the intersection. Never mind that I'd gotten food poisoning from the meat once. My aunt said it was just stale. I insisted that the "parsley" had been mold, and I strongly suspected that the butcher cut up innocent strays rather than the Angus Beef he protested he sold. The incident turned me into a permanent vegetarian.  
There was no arguing with Aunt Jane when she made up her mind, however, and within fifteen minutes I was dressed. I'd purposely tried to wear the jeans with a hole in the knee, and she'd threatened to ground me for the following year if I didn't wear the hideous overcoat Uncle Brian had sent me last Easter.   
I ended up being dragged away to market in both, a billboard of contradictory taste.  
  
The odor of unwashed goats and rotting fruits made me cringe. I stumbled back as a fishmonger stuffed half a mackerel in my face while harking his goods, and bumped bodily into a tall man with a tremendously long white beard and half-moon glasses that glinted in the sparse light.  
"Sorry," I mumbled and rushed to the florist's booth. While most of the flowers were wilting, the smell was not as bad as the rest of the area.  
"Hey, Malory," the vendor said cheerfully. He was my age, perhaps a bit older, too poor to go to the private school I went to and too rich to ask for financial help. He called himself Jim.   
"Hey, Jimmy," I smiled, content to see a friendly face in the crowd of customers and merchants.   
He held out a long-stemmed violet. "Here. You look like you could use a little cheerin' up."  
"No, Jim, it's alright. I don't want to -"  
"Eh, go on. I found it on the road this mornin'. Oh, go _on_, I know you'd like it."  
I smiled and accepted the flower. "Thanks."  
"Anytime. FLOWERS!," he boomed into my ear as a passerby strolled in front of the booth. "FRESH FLOWERS, GOOD FOR ANY OCCASION!"  
The man stooped over to select a bouquet of limp roses that had a strange gold tinge to their drooping petals, handing Jim twice the price of what the roses were worth. "Here you go, my boy." Jim handed back the change, but the man shook his hand. "Keep it."  
"I don't accept charity," Jim replied gruffly. Nearly everyone in the town knew about Jim's money matters, and based on countless earlier incidents, he was apparently assuming that this man was from town.  
"It's not charity," the man answered, a surprised note in his voice. "I've been looking for these a long time." I looked up, curious. The customer was tall, hooknosed, and had rather oily, dark hair, streaked here and there with gray at the temples. He looked as though he wasn't mean-hearted, yet wasn't used to being kind.  
I nudged Jim sharply. "Take it. I could use a drink."  
Jim laughed outright, and accepted the man's offer. "Thank you, sir."  
"My pleasure," he responded without a note of pleasure in his tone. He glanced at me, then gazed hard into my eyes. I blinked and turned away, suddenly interested in a clump of weeds underneath my feet. He left abruptly to join the man I'd bumped into earlier.  
Jim swung the sign on his booth so that it read CLOSED, then turned to me. "So, ready for that drink?"  
"You're just going to leave your booth?"  
"Don't worry. Dog will guard it." He gestured to the large Alsatian that was snoozing next to the pushcart. Jim was one of the only people I knew who named his pet for what it was. I found it amusing. He thought it was practical. "So, you still up for it?"  
I glanced at my aunt. In addition to buying eggs, she'd also bought a greasy pound of beefsteak, three loaves of bread when we already had two at home, and was haggling with the grocer over the price of cream. "Sure. Let's go."  
We opened the door to the drugstore. Mr. Leonards, the lean short man who ran the store, smiled and greeted us loudly. "Hello there, ladies! What would you like today?"  
Jim pretended to storm off huffily, grumbling, "You've just lost a customer there, mister!"  
Mr. Leonards leapt nimbly over the counter and clung to the edge of Jim's jacket. "No! Not that!," he wept melodramatically. Jim relented and came back, grinning. Winking at me, Mr. Leonards tripped him with his broom, and yelled triumphantly, "Ha! That should teach you to threaten a manager! Take that! And that!" He pretended to whack Jim with the broom, while Jim pretended to cringe with fear.  
I laughed. Watching Mr. Leonards and Jim was like watching two incredibly predictable clowns.  
Without warning, the broom shot out of Mr. Leonards hands and sailed grandly out the window, shattering it in the process. Jim's jaw dropped, and Mr. Leonards sat down on one of his stools with a thump, the steel creaking under his weight. I stared out the window, and caught a glimpse of a tall man with a hooknose - Jim's customer. Without thinking, I leapt across the store, ignoring the gapes of the couple purchasing a packet of bandages and Jim's shouts, and raced towards the man. He saw me and ran like a rabbit after it's spotted the hunting hound.  
"Hey!," I shouted, picking up my pace. "Hey! You need to pay for that window you know! Get back here!"  
The man ignored me, and led me through the market. It seemed as though baskets of grain and eggs dodged out of his way. I had to spend half my energy jumping over them. The only thing I didn't try to avoid was my aunt; I nearly ran her over when she stepped in my path, scolding me about my behavior, no doubt. Eventually, he led me out of the market area, racing in between the trees that lined the outskirts of the town. Suddenly, I found myself suspended in thin air, my legs pumping in vain as I realized the impossible situation I was in. "What the hell!"  
The man stopped in front of me, panting. "A little young to be swearing, aren't you?"  
I swiped at his face but he dodged me easily. I heard a rustling in the bushes. White-bearded and eyes twinkling, the man I'd bumped into earlier emerged from the trees. "Who the hell are you?," I snapped.  
"My name's Albus Dumbledore," he answered serenely. "The man who you've been chasing is Professor Snape." The hooknosed man bowed sarcastically.   
"Well, would you please tell Professor Snape to put me down and pay for the window that he just broke?"  
"I was only helping her friend," he told Dumbledore. "He was being beaten by the store manager."  
"It was a joke!," I exclaimed. "They always do that! Besides -" I stopped suddenly, remembering exactly how the window had shattered. I stared at the two men in horror, ridiculous stories of psychic powers and serial killers suddenly not so ridiculous to me any more. "Put me down!," I demanded, my voice quavering a little.  
"I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you a couple questions first," the white-bearded man told me. I set my jaw determinedly. "Will you answer them?"  
"I will if you put me down."  
I landed on the frosty ground with a hard thud. My rump began aching, and I stood up, scowling at my interrogators.  
Dumbledore knelt before me so that his eyes were level with mine. "Now. I don't normally chase after people who haven't responded to our letters, but yours is a special case."  
"How reassuring."  
"Have any owls come by your house lately?"  
I blinked. Of all the questions I'd been expecting, this certainly wasn't one of them. "Owls?," I repeated blankly.  
"Yes. Carrying letters, to be more precise."  
"Um...no?"  
Dumbledore's face clouded for an instant. "Nothing at all?"  
"No."  
"Does your aunt hunt, but any chance?"  
I raised my eyebrows. What sort of questions were these? "No, I don't think so."  
"Does anyone in your family hunt?," Dumbledore persisted.  
"My uncle does, but he's a rotten shot."  
Snape frowned. "Did he visit recently?"  
"Yeah, last week. Can I go now?"  
Dumbledore turned to the professor. "Why hasn't she received any of the others?"  
"I've no idea."  
"Did you see her aunt at market?"  
Snape shook his head, smiling dryly. "I must say that I pity her somewhat. Living with someone who haggles over the price of commercial loaf of bread can't be easy to live with."  
Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. I trudged away, the brown grass crunching under my feet. "You still need to pay for Mr. Leonard's window," I called over my shoulder.   
"You'll stay here, young lady," Professor Snape said smoothly. Something about his voice called for no defiance, and made me stop right where I was. _Why did I chase this man?_ I asked myself wildly, licking my chapped lips with a dry tongue. _What did I get myself into?_  
Dumbledore walked over to me, placing a hand gently on my shoulder. I relaxed. He might be a serial killer, but he was incredibly comforting for one. "I need to speak to your aunt," he murmured. "Do you mind leading Professor Snape and myself to her?"  
"You're the one who's going to talk to her, not me." I weaved through the crowd, pushing my way past the adults and yelling at some schoolmates as they surrounded me in the spirit of fun, throwing paper airplanes they'd made the day before. I grabbed the bucket of water that the fishmonger used to wash his fish off and shook it threateningly at them. They backed off. Curiously enough, everyone seemed to stay out of Dumbledore and Snape's way. It wasn't that people actually moved out of the way so that they could pass, it was more like their daily business led them out of their path.  
My aunt grabbed me by the arm as soon as she spotted me. "Where were you? You've caused me no end of stress! Ooh, you just wait till we get home, you'll regret wandering off like that..." Her voice trailed off as she caught sight of Dumbledore and Snape. "Who in heaven's name are you?"  
"I believe you know the answer already, madam," Dumbledore replied.   
My aunt blanched. Her nostrils grew white and flared out like a nag's. "You stay away from my town and my niece!"  
I stared up at Aunt Jane in amazement. Since when did she care what happened to me?  
"But can't you see how valuable she could become?," Dumbledore pleaded. "The entire wizarding community would welcome her with open arms, yet the only welcome she gets here is from a drugstore manager and a flower vendor. Even her own aunt won't accept her for what she is here."  
Pain and confusion shot through my chest as Dumbledore's comments struck home. My aunt's face flushed alarmingly, then paled. "So what if I don't?," she hissed. "What self-respecting person would want such a - a - an _abnormality_ for a relative?" She sniffed. "It's humiliating! I've raised Malory-Jane to be a proper, normal young lady, and I intend to keep her that way!"  
Dumbledore's face had hardened somewhat during the past conversation. At length, he cleared his throat and addressed my aunt. "My good woman -" he pronounced the word with irony "- I'm sure it would be better if Malory was the one to decide what her future is to be. It affects no one as much her." He bent his head to face me. "My dear," he whispered. "I think it's time you learned the truth." And so, the story came out. I wasn't what my aunt had told me repeatedly for the past few years, the spoiled orphan put into her care. My father was still alive, drawing maps of uncharted, hidden continents and doing in-field research for the "Ministry of Magic". It was he who was sending money to care for me, send me to the private school that I went to. And later, to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. My mother was dead, but not in the way that I'd believed. Instead of the hit-and-run accident my uncle had told me, and I'd accepted, she'd died while performing a powerful spell for a demonstration - one that could easily go awry. I glared at the ground the entire time Dumbledore narrated his version of my past, as though I could send all the sudden, overwhelming emotions into the soil, so they'd disappear from sight. When he was done, Dumbledore looked at my aunt, then back at me. Snape was turned away, his jaw clenched.  
"Well, you've heard it," my aunt snapped, making my head snap up as my reverie was interrupted by her shrill voice. "Come on, Malory-Jane."  
I wrenched my arm away from her grip. Her lips thinned, and the area around her nostrils grew white. _"Malory-Jane!,"_ she hissed.   
"Is it true?," I demanded. My words were as quiet as hers, but the difference was clear: while hers was shrill and full of the panic that comes with exposure, mine was (I was slightly proud to find) calm and clear. "Is it really true?"  
My aunt glared at me. "Alright. So it is. It doesn't change what you're mother was, or what your father was." She said the words "mother" and "father" with distaste, as though she were talking about someone's extra-marital affairs. "You're not going to become like them, you hear?," she added tenaciously. "You're going to grow up a respectable woman if it's the last thing I do. You're not going to shame you're family by going to that school, like your parents!"  
I could have thrown her to the ground in my fury. Instead I smacked her across the cheek, in full view of everyone. Years of pent-up frustration and suppressed rage were behind that blow, and the mark appeared immediately, as red and dark as my anger. _"How dare you!,"_ I whispered, my outrage making my voice drop. "How _dare_ you talk about my parents like that! How dare you _LIE _to me! How dare you take away my rights!"  
"What rights?," my aunt managed to spit out, shocked and angry that I'd hit her.  
"My rights to the _truth_! I had a right to know what happened to my family! You had no right to lie to me!"  
Glaring at me, unable to do anything else, my aunt gasped for breath. Then she slapped me in turn.   
Snape took two heavy strides towards us. Dumbledore placed himself between me and my aunt's reach. I pushed past him and faced my aunt. "Give me the key."  
My aunt narrowed her eyes. _"What?"_  
"The key to the house."  
"Whatever for?"  
"So I can get my stuff." I shot her a triumphant look. So I could do what I'd wanted to do since I'd arrived at my aunt's house. "So I can leave."  
Quivering with anger, she demanded, "Is this what I get? Is this what I get after feeding you -"  
"Poisoning me's more like it." Fake Angus beef and parsley-like mold lived clearly at the front of my mind. Old grudges die hard.  
"After caring for you, paying for your things -"  
"With my father's money."  
She trembled some more, then threw the keys on the ground in front of me. "Fine. Get all your stuff. You're gone in half an hour." She turned smartly on her heel and, eager to have the final word, barked, "And don't you dare come back."  
I stared at the keys as though they were made of gold. Stunned, I reached down for them, the surveyed my surroundings, dreading the embarrassment that was sure to come with a public argument.  
It never came. The market was bustling about as though they hadn't seen my aunt and I fighting. I looked up at Dumbledore, my eyes questioning.  
"Magic can shield many things," he murmured. "Privacy is the least of its worries." He waved what looked suspiciously like a wand, then gestured to me. "The window is fixed," he said. "Mr. Leonards and Jim Reynold both have no recollection of what occured in the drugstore."  
"You wiped their memories?," I asked, both awed and indignant.  
"In a manner of speaking, I suppose," he replied, smiling. "Let us say that I merely rearranged them."  
Jim was back at his pushcart. "Hey Malory!," he called out, as though he'd just noticed me for the first time.   
"Hello, Jim."  
He reached into his pocket then looked down, puzzled. "Funny. I could've sworn there was somethin' in there before."  
I reached into my own pocket. The violet bloomed within its depths, and I pulled it out for him to see. "This it, Jimmy?"  
His eyes widened. "Yeah! How'd you...?"  
I smiled wryly. "Magic."  
Snape shot Dumbledore a wary glance.  
Jimmy laughed and slapped me on the shoulder as I reached him. "Where's the hag?"  
"She's gone," I returned, smiling. "She went back."   
"Eh, decided to give up the daily haggling, did she?" Jim flipped the CLOSED/OPEN sign so that the CLOSED faced out. I shook my head, trying to erase the sense of deja vu. He didn't seem to see the two men standing behind me. "Listen, you want a drink? I must've found some money and forgotten about it or something." He displayed the money that Snape had paid him for the flowers.  
I sighed. "I can't. I'm sorry, I gotta go home and pack." I felt Dumbledore's hand clench my shoulder briefly in warning.  
"Pack? For what?"  
"Er, boarding school."   
Clench.  
"You mean PARKIN'S?," Jim goggled, amazed and horrified. "That prep school in the next city?"  
I sighed again. "Yep. That's the one."  
"Jesus, I'll never hear from you again!"  
I half-believed him. "I'll come down for Christmas. Don't worry." The promise lodged in my heart, and I was suddenly determined to keep it. Spinster aunt or no.  
Jim suddenly wrapped his arm around my shoulder. "I'll miss you, Malory."  
"Yeah," I murmured. "I'll miss you." And me, I whispered to myself. I'll have to say goodbye to the old me. I'll miss me too.  
He waved enthusiastically at me as I made my way with Snape and Dumbledore towards the route leading to my house. "See you at Christmas!"  
I waved back. "Bye!"  
"Have fun at Parkin's!"  
"I will!" Then remembering what I would've said a day ago. "Hey, shut up!"  
Jim grinned. I mirrored his expression weakly and turned towards my house to gather my meager belongings. Dumbledore's hand was still on my shoulder, but it was no longer a warning. Now, it was an encouragement.


	2. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and any other tangentially mentioned characters created by J. K. Rowling remain her copyrighted property, as well as the copyrighted property of her   
publisher, etc. No copyright infringement is intended. All original characters created by the author remain her property.   
  
Author's Note: If you haven't read the first chapter, a lot of my attempts at jokes are going to slip through your head without sinking in, so please read the first chapter.  
  


  
Over Sea  
  
Acquaintances  
  


The day of packing, filling out of forms, sparse farewells, Dumbledore and Snape led me to a battered car that looked as though its last day had come ages ago. Dumbledore insisted on driving, a youthful, mischievous gleam entering his eye. It was the only thing that wasn't comforting about him.  
  
Dumbledore drove like a plastered fraternity boy coming home after an adreneline-pumping football game. Doobie (apparently christened so by it's last owner; I couldn't imagine Dumbledore naming his car "Doobie") was pushed to his brink, wheezing as he exceeded the speed limit by at least twenty miles an hour. But like when I was chasing Snape, objects just seemed to jump out of the car's way. A good thing too, otherwise at least five fire hydrants, two tethered dogs, five elderly pedestrians and a hot dog stand would have been flattened.  
  
Snape, sitting tall in the passenger seat, was silent the entire ride. His knuckles were white from clutching the dashboard, and he seemed more relieved than I when we finally reached our destination.  
  
A dingy, cheerfully lit pub labeled THE LEAKY CAULDRON.  
  
Snape scrabbled out of the car awkwardly, obviously not used to traveling by automobile. I wondered if cars existed in the new world that I'd soon be entering. The air in The Leaky Cauldron was filled with the scent of cider and cocoa and aromas I'd never imagined before. Dumbledore bought a mug of something golden and foamy that gave off a comforting smell of warmth. He paid the bartender a curiously shaped silver coin. Snape shook his head at Dumbledore's offer of a drink. He turned to me.  
  
"Would you like anything to drink?"  
  
Thirsty, I glanced at the list of beverages. What the heck was gillywater? Butterbeer? What did they taste like? I glanced at a paper-white man, his lips curiously bright, dressed head to toe in a black cloak with a dark gray vest underneath. He was drinking what looked like incredibly thick, dark red punch. "Um...could I have a Coke?"  
  
Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow and scanned the beverage list. "How about a glass of butterbeer?"  
  
"A glass of what?"  
  
He held out the foaming mug of golden liquid he'd bought earlier. He hadn't taken a sip yet, so I took a mouthful. It was slightly fizzy, and reminded me of sunshine and lazy summer afternoons. I could feel it travel down my chest, warming my body pleasantly as it fizzed its way down.  
  
Dumbledore smiled at my pleased expression. "You can have the rest."  
  
I shook my head and handed the mug back. It was wonderful, but too rich for my taste. I preferred lighter forms of refreshment. "No, thank you." The strap of my backpack was digging uncomfortably into my shoulder. I tried to shift it as unobtrusively as I could, but it's bulk was too awkward and it bumped into someone sitting behind me. I heard a hiss and clank as a mug dropped to the floor.  
  
The buzz of conversation halted. I could feel the entire pub's eyes resting on me. I turned, embarrassed, to apologize. It was the man I'd seen drinking the punch. Some had flecked near my mouth, and unconsciously my tongue crept out to wipe it away.  
  
A metallic, tingling taste invaded my mouth. I recognized it almost immediately; the man had been drinking blood. Eyes wide, I stared at the man in horror.  
  
He was very tall, at least seven feet in height. His face was noble, gaunt, the face of a man of royalty, but there was a hard, cold glint in his eye. It was impossible to tell his age; he could have been anywhere from twenty to two-hundred. He shot me a look, and as he bent down to pick up the fallen mug I saw a tiny embroidered crest on the collar of his robe. It was a staff, entwined with ivy and what looked like a large raven. He set the mug on the counter, then turned once more to me.   
  
"I - I'm really sorry. I had no idea you were there." As an afterthought, I added, "I'll pay for the drink if you like." I decided that buttering up to a man who drank blood as though it was water wasn't too bad an idea.  
  
One corner of his mouth twitched up his face in a half-smile. "It's alright. I do not mind." His voice was refined and cultured, like that of a duke or a count. "You are, perhaps, lucky that I dismiss this incident so easily."  
  
Shit. That didn't sound reassuring at all. Unsure of how to respond, I stammered, "Er, thank you?"  
  
The man grinned, and I was startled to see two glistening, ivory fangs slip over his lower lip. "You are welcome." He tilted his head to one side and looked at me appraisingly, summing me up mentally. His hand suddenly flicked into my breast pocket and reached for the violet. "Where did you get this?"  
  
"A friend gave it to me."  
  
He pulled one of the petals down and I saw with a start that the vague shape of the same crest that was on his cloak was painted by Nature's hand on it. "Do you realize what power comes with this blossom?"  
  
I stared at the flower. "Would you kill me if I said no?" I was deadly serious, but the man took it as a joke.  
  
"No." Then, quietly. "I'm afraid I have no power over you." I looked at him sharply, surprised. He slipped the violet back into my pocket and whisked away.   
  
The entire pub seemed to give way to a sigh of relief at his departure. The volume of conversation returned to normal. Snape took a look at my flower. "Do you know who that was?" It was the first time he'd spoken for the past several hours. Then, in answer to my incredulous look, he answered his own question. "No, of course you don't. The man who's glass you just knocked over -" he looked distastefully down at the pool of spilled blood on the floor "- is one of the few remaining vampires native to England."  
  
I gazed at Snape, wondering if he was going mad. But then, as I ran the recent events over in my head, I realized that perhaps a vampire wasn't too impossible a possibility. What I said aloud was ". . . Really?"  
  
"His name, if I'm correct, is Gregori Quinn. Not a bad man, really, but all vampires have rather...objectionable habits." He glanced again at the blood spilled on the floorboards.   
  
Dumbledore looked at the blood. With a whisper, it disappeared into the cracks between the wooden floor. "Come. We have much work to do."  
  
I followed him out the pub door, Snape three strides behind me. Dumbledore led us to the back of the pub. He tapped a brick with his wand. The wall slowly warped until an archway led into a long, crowded street. I walked through it in wonder, taking in my surroundings with bated breath.   
  
Stores lined either side of the alley, the windows displaying some of the strangest things I'd ever seen in my entire life. I squinted at the apothecary shop. No, I wasn't imagining the unicorn horns shining in the light, a little label attached reading ONLY NINETEEN GALLEONS - TWO GALLEONS OFF! A little wicker basket lying next to it was full of slimy orbs, the sign in front reading NEWTS' EYES. Tiny bottles of a sparkling, glittery translucent substance dotted the ledge, labeled PIXIE DUST.   
  
What looked like an ice cream shop stood next to it, the paint colorful and bright. A pang of homesickness shot through my chest as I was reminded of Mr. Leonard's shop. The florist's shop, with its exotic smelling flowers and buckets of moss, didn't help much as I wondered if Jim was packing up his booth, headed for home with Dog trotting by his side.  
  
"Come." Dumbledore steered me towards a small shop entitled "Olliviander's Wands" in flowing, shimmery letters. The sign looked brand new.  
  
My heart leapt in my ribcage. "I'm going to get a wand?"  
  
"Of course," Snape barked. "What did you expect to use, a ruler?"  
  
I stepped into the shop with an eager soul.  
  
The inside was spotless, in some places so clean that it was painful to look at the bright, colorless walls. A young man, tall and gangly with buckteeth, freckles, and dirty-blond hair rushed over to greet us. "Welcome! What can I do for you today?"  
  
"We need to supply this young lady with a wand, Eugene."  
  
"Course! Right away sir." He bustled off to the back room. I gazed around at the store in amazement. The walls were completely barren of any sort of display. The only thing in the room was the counter.   
  
A sudden cough made me whirl around. An old man with strange, silvery eyes walked into the room, leaning lightly on a cane. "Albus!," he cried out delightedly. "What brings you here?"  
  
"What else but a wand, my friend?" Dumbledore pushed me forward lightly. "Malory, meet Mr. Olliviander. One of the finest collectors and merchant of wands who ever lived."  
  
Mr. Olliviander chuckled pleasantly. "You flatter me, Albus." He coughed again. Silver, quick, and slightly disturbing, Mr. Olliviander's eyes bored into mine until I averted my gaze. He might have been a pleasant man for all I knew, but those eyes still didn't leave me with a good impression.  
  
Eugene rushed back in, laden with several slender boxes, so many that they towered high over his head. They swayed to and fro precariously, and finally tumbled to the ground in a heap. "Uncle!," Eugene cried out. "I thought you went out."  
  
"I did," Mr. Olliviander replied mysteriously. "Keep in mind that you're still an apprentice my boy. I still appreciate overseeing my wands' performance."  
  
Eugene flushed slightly and opened the first box. An incredibly pale, thin rod of wood lay nestled on a bed of cotton. "Here," Eugene said, holding it out for me. "Birch, Fourteen inches, swishy. What's the stuff inside -- oh yes, I remember, phoenix feather. It's good for Charms, I think."  
  
I held it, feeling rather foolish. "What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Just wave it around," Eugene replied, gesturing enthusiastically with his hands. Mr. Olliviander gazed at the wand.  
  
I waved it around several times, with no special result, for several minutes until Mr. Olliviander coughed and said, "Er, I don't believe that one will suit her, do you lad?"  
  
Eugene, who'd been lounging on the pile of boxes, leapt to his feet. "Right. Sorry." He took the wand away and handed me another one. This one was gold-tinted brown, and very polished. "Mahogany -" he glanced at his uncle "- I mean walnut. Supple, seven inches, dragon heartstring core. Good for..." His voice trailed off.  
  
"Defense," his uncle interjected patiently.  
  
"Oh, yeah. Good for Defense Against the Dark Arts."  
  
I waved that one. Nothing.   
  
Eugene, quicker this time than last, snatched the wand out of my hand after a couple swishes. He handed me another, a peach tinted gray, rather stout wand, with hardly any polish at all. "Ash. Eleven inches. Bendy. Unicorn hair."  
  
Again, no result. I ran unsuccessfully through twenty-one wands in all. Mr. Olliviander seemed increasingly pleased as each one was discarded, shouting out encouragement, helping his nephew reach for new wands, correcting him when he erred (which was often).  
  
Finally, Eugene handed me the twenty-second wand. It wasn't highly polished, but it gleamed gently in the light, a rosy color blushing from underneath the surface color. "Try this one here. Rosewood, nine inches. Dragon heartstring, good for Transfiguration. Quick."  
  
A slight tingle of fiery warmth traveled through my fingertips as I held the wand. I raised it above my head and brought it swishing down through the air.  
  
Sparks of light spurted from the end and ricocheted off the walls. Eugene whooped and fell backwards and Mr. Olliviander clapped his hands together. "Good show," he cried.   
  
"Impressive," Snape said to me. "Very impressive, for an abnormality of society."  
  
I looked at him sternly, then relaxed as I saw that he was joking. He looked as though he weren't used to it, so I flashed him an appeasing smile and gazed down at my wand. It looked as though it was glowing, faintly, but glowing nonetheless.  
  
Mr. Olliviander put the wand in its original box while Eugene replaced the boxes in the back room. He sighed and addressed Dumbledore. "I do wish that boy's taste fitted mine. This room used to be full of boxes, cluttering every inch of the wall." He eyed his store wistfully. "The air used to be full of dust. Makes the performance more impressive, and it's easier to tell, but...Eugene always did value neatness." He frowned. "I just wish the room wasn't so blasted _clean_."  
  
Dumbledore laughed and paid Mr. Olliviander for my wand, thanking him profusely. Mr. Olliviander bowed us from his shop.  
  
I gripped the box hard as I began to ask Dumbledore something. "Er, Mr. Dumbledore?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"When should I pay you back for my wand and school supplies?"  
  
He stopped and smiled at me. "And what makes you think that you have to pay me back?"  
  
"Oh, but, but I have to," I stammered. The thought of not paying him back hadn't occurred to me, and I felt that I owed the man for finally relieving me from the clutches of my aunt. "I could ask my father for some money." My voice faltered on the word father. I still wasn't used to the idea of having parents.  
  
Dumbledore's smile widened. "Very well. If it eases your conscience, I'll accept your payment." He gave me the receipt for the wand.  
  
I tucked it into my pocket. "Thank you." Then, rather worriedly, I added, "I'm not sure if...I don't know if I'll be good enough for...I mean, I've never done anything like, magical before."  
  
"Oh, I'm sure if you rack your memory hard enough you'll come up with something."  
  
I looked at Dumbledore blankly. "Hasn't anything ever happened when you were angry or frustrated with your aunt?"  
  
The eggs. "Well, I suppose. The eggs began frying in the fridge once, when she told me to make breakfast last Christmas."  
  
"And what about that magnificent leap at the drugstore?," Snape interjected.  
  
"What magnificent leap?," I queried. "All I did was run across the store -"  
  
In one leap. I hadn't taken more than one step, yet I'd crossed the entire store.  
  
Dumbledore laughed at my expression. "You'll remember many things as you're more fully trained."  
  
"But...I'm just wondering, but what class do you teach?"  
  
"I don't teach a class."  
  
"But then..."  
  
"I'm the Headmaster."  
  
This still didn't explain what I'd been wanting to know. "That means you're really important, right?"  
  
"People like to think so."  
  
"So then why'd you come and get me?" Dumbledore gave me a quizzical glance. "I'm only one student. Why come all the way here just to get me? No headmaster would do that, not in any other schools here. It's favoritism, or something like that, isn't it?"  
  
"Well, even the strictest headmaster cannot ignore a personal request from one of the most powerful, respected wizards in the country. I'm only sorry we have to rush so. I should have come yesterday, so that we'd have an extra day at least."  
  
"And who was this wizard?"  
  
"Your father."  
  
My voice congealed in my throat and I stared hard at my shoes, unable to speak. When my voice unstuck from my throat, I threw a look in Snape's direction. "What's Professor Snape doing with you?"  
  
In answer, Snape drew out the limp bouquet of flowers that he'd purchased from Jim. "Like I said before, I'd been looking for these for a long time."  
  
"What do you teach, Professor?"  
  
"Potions." He sounded as thoug he wasn't satisfied with his subject, and I caught the briefest glimpse of a smile playing over Dumbledore's face.  
  
Dumbledore handed me something -- an envelope, made of either thick paper or rather thin parchment. "I'm sorry I didn't give it to you earlier," he said. "It must have slipped my mind."  
  
There was an emblem in the corner; a badger, lion, serpent, and an eagle, placed around a large, ornate H. The letter was addressed, in green ink, to  
  
  
Malory Aidenn  
Attic Room  
9 Craig Lane  
Water-at-the-Bridge  
Kent  
  
  
I opened it, brimming with curiosity. It was my acceptance letter, including a list of supplies I'd need for school. I'd already gotten my wand, and we were now veering into a shop that was crowded with books.   
  
Some of the strangest books were crowded onto the multitude of shelves. One title held my attention: _How To Make Your Relatives Less Aggravating: EFFECTIVE SILENCING CHARMS AND RECIPES FOR BANISHING POTIONS_, by Kevin Ignoramus. It looked like an interesting bit of reading, but Snape steered me away. "We've got to get on and buy your textbooks."  
  
The books felt like a load of bricks, but Dumbledore tapped them lightly with his wand and they became instantly lighter. A pewter cauldron underwent the same treatment, as did the beetle eyes, toad spleen, pixie wings, and infinite other Potions ingredients that Snape looked over for me, to see that the quality of the substances were pleasing. We also bought a pair of sparkling crystal phials, dragonhide gloves, and a set of bronze scales that clanked every time I shifted the bag.   
  
Eventually, we traveled into a shop where I was to be fitted for my school uniform. Dumbledore and Snape assured me that they'd wait outside, and a plump, friendly woman set me on a stool and began bustling about, measuring me with at least five tape measures at once. "Headed for Hogwarts, are you dear?," she inquired, speaking around a mouthful of pins.  
  
"Er, I suppose so." I answered, realizing that the tape measures were doing their job on their own. After a while, she stopped sticking pins into two bolts of black cloth she'd managed to form into the vague shape of a robe and cloak and told me, "You can hop off now. Wait in the room there and I'll give you the uniforms and cloaks in about five minutes."  
  
I wandered into the room that she'd indicated. A girl was waiting there, fitted before me. "Hello," she said cheerfully.  
  
"Hi."   
  
"Are you a first year?"  
  
"Um...I'm new."  
  
My answer seemed to be good enough for her, for she rushed on without waiting for an answer. "I'm in Slytherin, name's Jill Orwen. Where're you from? I'm from Surrey. Are you excited?"  
  
"Um -"  
  
"I was SO excited when I was first going to Hogwarts, I remember. I was afraid I wouldn't be good enough, but all the teachers say that I'll probably be a prefect, since my grades are high enough. I always was a bright student, and the subjects are so easy for me."  
  
"You're very modest," I said.  
  
My sarcasm sailed right over her head. "Oh yes, my mother tells me I should be more proud of my accomplishments. What House are you going to be in?"  
  
"Well -"  
  
"Your robes are ready, my dears," the plump lady smiled, coming out with two sets of three robes and two cloaks. I took my set, thanked her, paid her the amount of money that Dumbledore had told me to pay, then left, glad to be away from Jill Orwen.   
  
  
How we got to Kings Station is still a bit blurry in my memory. I think, whatever mode of transportation we used, I fell asleep for the most part, until I heard Dumbledore's voice murmur, "We're there, Malory."  
  
I blinked groggily. The air was full of noise, slurred, metallic voices over the public announcement system, chattering from all the passengers boarding and coming off the trains, the trains themselves. I looked up at the headmaster. "We're taking a train? With all this stuff?" I waved towards the cart that was sagging from the weight of all my equipment.  
  
"Oh, we're taking a very different train, I can assure you." Dumbledore pointed to the barrier between stations nine and ten. "Just run towards it, as fast as you can, and push the carty in front of you. It's less nervewracking for first-years."  
  
I didn't understand. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Take the cart and run into the barrier," Snape said bluntly.  
  
I looked at them. "You've gone mad."  
  
Dumbledore smiled at me. "Malory, I assure you that I lost my sanity some years ago, so you've nothing to fear by now."  
  
This made even less sense then the bit about the barriers, but I decided to take him at his word. I took a deep breath, then gripped the cart until my palms ached and sprinted towards the barrier. "MOVE!," I shouted as a group of hikers surged in front of me. They dodged out of my way, muttering seomthing about crazy underage kids, and the cart crashed hard into the barrier.  
  
Or so I'd imagined.  
  
My feet kept running, and I pried my eyes open with some effort to see if I'd died.   
  
A large, crimson express train was belching smoke on the tracks, golden letters pronouncing HOGWARTS EXPRESS proudly at the front. The mewing of cats was almost deafening, and owls hooted in cages everywhere. A couple of toads hopped about the pavement, and I saw a couple of carriers containing sleek, clever-looking rats of every color.   
  
Dumbledore and Snape emerged from the barrier. Snape took the cart and steered it towards the luggage compartment. "Take one of your robes," he said. "You'll have to change on the train."  
  
I grabbed the robe nearest to me and climbed onto the train excitedly. Lost, I wandered about until I found a compartment that wasn't crowded with people. Only one sandy-haired boy with muddy blue eyes and long fingers sat dozing on one of the velvet seats. I cleared my throat, and his eyes snapped open.  
  
"Sorry, but is this seat taken?" I pointed to the seat across from him.  
  
Lazily, he yawned and shook his head no, rubbing his eyes with one hand. I set my robe down on the floor and studied the boy in front of me as his eyes drooped closed again. He was very tall, must have been at least six feet tall. I wondered how old he was. Something mewed loudly from the compartment above me, and I gave a little jump of surprise. The boy opened his eyes slowly then reached up and took out a small carrier. Carefully, he extracted a fuzzy, gray tabby kitten from within its depths. "Hullo, cat," he murmured, glancing at me self-consciously before turning back to his pet. The kitten mewed. "How're you today?" It yawned. He laughed. "Yeah, well, me too. Be quiet for a while and I'll let you out at lunch, alright?" The kitten mewed appeasingly. "Good." He set it back into its carrier and replaced it in its place above my head.  
  
"What's your cat's name?," I asked.  
  
"Cat."  
  
The boy had, in one syllable, endeared himself to me. "What's your name?"  
  
"Will Hugh. You?"  
  
"Malory Aidenn." We shook hands. "Are your parents magic?"  
  
"Yeah. I come from a kind of old wizarding family." He sounded as though the subject didn't please him. "What about you?"  
  
"Well, yes, I suppose."  
  
"You 'suppose'?"  
  
"I didn't find out about it till a couple hours ago."  
  
Will raised his eyebrows. I changed the subject. "What year are you in?"  
  
He stretched before answering. "First."  
  
"Really?"  
  
"You sound skeptical." He looked ruefully down at the ground from his towering height. "'S 'cause I'm so tall, huh?"  
  
"Yeah, I guess."  
  
"Well, if you put it that way, you look too short to be allowed."  
  
"Hey!" I was four seven, about a quarter of an inch away from that all-important eight inches, but my height was a tender subject between my aunt and I as she was the human equivalent of an overgrown goose whereas I was more of a field mouse in comparison with her long neck and dumpy body.   
  
Will laughed. "Which House are you hoping to get into?"  
  
"Well, to be honest, I don't know the Houses."  
  
"Oh." Will sat up a little. "Why not?"  
  
It seemed the subject of my family history was inevitable. I told him the shortest version of the past day's events that I could muster up, avoiding the heated argument with my aunt and the subject of Jim. That hurt a bit too much.  
  
Will's eyes grew steadily wider throughout my narrative. He whistled quietly as I finished. "So I take it your father's Blake Aidenn?"  
  
"Why? You've heard of him?"  
  
"Me and half the magic community. He's like my role model, to be honest," he added with a sheepish grin.  
  
So, that was my status. A girl who knew nothing of the magic world, and whose anonymous father was the known throughout half the community. "Hmm."  
  
The train whistled loudly and lurched off to a start. The scenery began passing by slowly at first, then picked up speed until everything whizzed by in a green and gray blur, the pastures mixing with the cement.  
  
My new life had officially begun with the first whistle of the train. I drew a deep breath and smiled at Will, my first friend in this strange, bewildering place. He smiled back.


	3. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and any other tangentially mentioned characters created by J. K. Rowling remain her copyrighted property, as well as the copyrighted property of her   
publisher, etc. No copyright infringement is intended. All original characters created by the author remain her property.   


  
Over Sea  
  
The Sorting  
  


Will allowed his curiosity to be halted while I took a much-needed nap. Rattling wheels and his voice jolted me out of my slumber.  
  
"It's the food cart, do you want anything?"  
  
I opened my mouth, then remembered that all I had was a "muggle" pound note. I shook my head no. Will frowned slightly, then proceeded to buy more food than I'd ever seen in my life. Soon, things such as Chocolate Frogs, Cauldron Cakes, Pumpkin Pasties, Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Jelly Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum occupied an entire seat next to him.  
  
I stared at the food hungrily. Will held a Chocolate Frog towards me. "You hungry?"  
  
"No," I lied. "I'm fine."  
  
Will saw through it easily. "Oh, c'mon."  
  
I took the Chocolate Frog, trying my best to look reluctant. I opened it rather hesitantly, not sure of what to find inside it. To my relief, a perfectly ordinary chocolate fell out, along with a little rectangle of cardboard. A trading card. I turned it over while I munched on the chocolate. A curly-bearded, ferocious looking man glared back at me, scowling deeply. The picture seemed so clear I could see his beard shining in the light of some unseen sun.  
  
Then he grinned and winked at me.  
  
I yelped and dropped the card. Will, startled, jumped about a foot in the air. "What? What is it?"  
  
"H - He _winked_ at me!"  
  
Will looked torn between amusement and irritation. Amusement won, and he chuckled. "Of course, what did you expect, for him to stand still all day?"  
  
"Isn't that what pictures normally do?"  
  
"Not in the wizard world."  
  
I stared at the picture. The wizard yawned and charged out of the frame. I looked at everything with a new appreciation. Will was consuming a pumpkin pasty busily. "Didn't you promise Cat that you'd let her out?" I reminded him, eager to see the little kitten.  
  
"Oh yeah!" Will stuffed the rest of the pumpkin pasty in his mouth and hoisted the carrier to the floor. He opened the door and Cat came bounding out, mewing irritably at Will. She sniffed at the air then fell heavily on her rump as she encountered the Chocolate Frog wrapping I'd thrown carelessly onto the floor of the compartment. She looked up at me and purred. I grinned.  
  
"I think she's taking to you," Will said cheerfully. He set Cat into my lap.  
  
The only other animal I'd ever encountered so close without my aunt screaming at me was Dog, and a two-hundred pound Alsatian is entirely different from a tiny, fuzzball with whiskers. Every move she made caused a grin to break out on my face. I even forgave her for sharpening her claws on the knees of my tattered jeans, something that my aunt would have envied. Finally, she rolled off my lap in her sixth unsuccessful attempt to bat my cauldron cake away from me. Will laughed and picked her up. Cat set her tiny claws into his hand, but didn't fuss when Will put her back into her cage.  
  
A sudden crash from outside of our section of the train made us both start. "What was that?" I whispered. Will shook his head in bewilderment.   
  
_Whump._  
  
Something soft had smashed into our compartment door.   
  
_Whump._  
  
I opened the door a crack to see what was going on.   
  
A large, golden eye peered back at me.  
  
"Whoa!" I shut the door abruptly, but not before whatever creature waiting outside stuck a talon into the gap. He seemed oblivious that I was squeezing the door shut on him, and squeezed himself somehow through the door.  
  
It was a massive, golden eagle. Circles of gold ringed its legs and tattooed its wings. Muscles rippled from beneath the sleek feathers. It was very powerful, and at the moment was looking very peeved.  
  
I swallowed.  
  
Someone knocked on the door. The eagle gave a screech and flew up to perch next to Cat, who mewed in protest. The eagle screeched at her, and she grew silent.  
  
I opened the door. The best word to describe the man standing in the doorway was long. His nose looked as though it was a straight descendant from Pinocchio's, his legs were almost as tall as me. His arms hung down like some amiable ape's, and his narrow face inquired brightly, "Have you seen an eagle anywhere, by chance?"  
  
I pointed wordlessly up to the luggage rack. The eagle shot me a glare. I returned.  
  
"You bad bird," the man said. "Why on earth did you fly away like that, eh?" He reached up easily and pried the eagle's talons off of the rack, making the creature flap its wings to keep its balance. Again, I was rather impressed by its sheer size. The wingspan alone must have been at least seven feet. The man turned to thank us. "I appreciate your help very much, children." He closed the door shut behind him and we both listened to the sound of his footsteps and the screeches of the eagle fading away.  
  
"You'd think he thought he was going to be fried and served for dinner," Will said. It took me a moment to realize that he was talking about the eagle.   
  
"I know. Wonder why he was making such a racket." Will shrugged and scooted around in his seat, preparing to take another nap. I smiled wryly. "You're not much company."  
  
"What's that?" Will asked, his eyes closed.   
  
"You're always taking a nap."  
  
"Well, that's what it looks like. My eyes hurt."  
  
I frowned. "Why would your eyes hurt?"  
  
"Well, my mum got the brilliant idea of going skiing, in a muggle resort. And we forgot those dark glasses and stuff they wear when they ski -"  
  
"You mean sunglasses?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah, that's it." He rubbed his eyes. "And we're not allowed to do you know, petty magic like that in front of muggles, in case they see us. And the hotel had all those little cameras in them so we couldn't do it there, either. The snow made my eyes ache." He sighed.  
  
I had to laugh. If I didn't know that pictures moved in this world, the fact that Will didn't know what sunglasses were made me feel a little better.  
  
The train stopped and let out a loud whistle, as though it was glad it had the chance to stop. I pulled the robe on over my jeans and shirt, but took off my sweater so that I wouldn't look like a sack of flour. Will followed my example and we both pushed out of the train, Will tucking Cat's carrier under his arm.   
  
Hundreds of other students were milling about, their bags gliding out from the baggage compartments scattered about the train on invisible wings. "It's alright," Will said, correctly interpreting my worried look. "If you didn't bring your stuff on board, they'll give it to you after the sorting."   
  
"What's the sorting?"  
  
"It's like, the ceremony that they do to see what House you're going to be in."  
  
"Has anyone ever changed Houses?" I asked, for the sake of conversation.  
  
"No," Will responded shortly. "At least, my sister told me a girl named Serenity Bronzewing or Silverwing or something was changed since she was being beaten up by her housemates, but I don't believe it." He exhaled nervously. I glanced at him. His normally open, relaxed face was tense and closed.   
  
"Nervous?"  
  
"Aren't you?"  
  
"Not really." I wondered why not. All the faces around me looked like Will's, tense, drawn, pale with anticipation and anxiety.   
  
"_Firs' years!_" a booming voice called out. "FIRS' YEAR FER HOGWARTS OVER HERE!"  
  
A giant of a man stood at the station. He was HUGE. At least twice as tall as Will, probably twelve times as wide, he had a friendly smiled glued sincerely onto his face and was holding, strangely enough, a large, pink umbrella. Will tugged on my arm and we both pushed through the overwhelming tide of people to get to him. As soon as all the first years were gathered around him, the giant began a head count that lasted fifteen minutes. After he made sure that no one was missing from the group, he led us across a large, rippling green moor to a moat, where a bunch of small boats were tied up. The man himself took up an entire boat. Will and I sat in a boat, waiting to take off. Two boys swaggered up to our boat. Twins, I saw. A couple of inches shorter than Will, and much more burly and broad-shouldered than him. "Can we sit here?" they chorused gruffly, not waiting for an answer and plopping down in the seats across from us.  
  
"Your welcome," I said, a bit more snidely than I meant.  
  
They looked at me. "Sorry," one of them said, not sounding too apologetic. "We couldn't find anywhere else to sit."  
  
They had a point. All of the boats were full now. I shrugged.  
  
"My name's Sam," said the twin on the right.  
  
"Mine's Eric."  
  
They both extended their hands. Sam was left handed, and Eric was right handed, so it made it fairly easy to shake hands with both of them. Will did the same. Their hands were like clamps, hard, powerful, and had a devastating effect on my fingers. I made a mental note that Sam had a small mole on his chin. Will winced as he shook Eric's hand.  
  
The man tapped the dock and the ropes that tethered the boats slipped loose. With a bolt, the boats sped forward, causing small waves to ripple through the glassy water. I let my hand drop idly into the cool liquid, then snatched it back as someone returned the grip from beneath the water. "What the hell?" I glanced down. Swimming as gracefully and quickly as a dolphin, a mischievous mermaid sped along underneath our boat. It was hard to tell whether it was a boy or girl, but from the long, streaming hair I assumed it was a girl. Awed, I stared into the mermaid's eyes. She was grinning widely, her shiny tail pumping furiously in the water, making as much waves as the boat. I let my hand dip into the water. The mermaid gripped it again, then with a sudden, gradual tug, leapt out of the water, the sun catching light on her scales. She returned to the water amid the gasps of everyone else, scarcely a drop splashing out of the water. Her smile had broadened. A gentle bump announced that we'd reached our destination.  
  
"This is Hogwarts," the giant said proudly.   
  
I looked up at the castle that towered before me. Spires decorated the top like candles. I touched the stone tentatively; it was warm. Hagrid hopped out of his boat onto a series of stepping stones. I clambered out of the boat, helping Will out, and mimicked his actions.   
  
If the outside of the castle had impressed me, I forgot all about it as I reached the inside. Tapestries hung on every wall. Suits of armor clanked about the halls, conversing with each other at intervals, sometime tripping into something and then going on a wild goose hunt for their helmets. Portraits covered the stones, and like the pictures, they never stood still for long. I stared at a yellowed, faded map, where a cow from the landscape next to it had wandered over and was munching on the capital of Argylshire.  
  
The giant (I found that his name was Hagrid from Eric) led us through a maze of halls and corridors until we reached a tall, polished pair of doors. "The Great Hall," he announced, and swung the doors open.  
  
Older students crowded the tables, craning their necks to see if their siblings were among the first row. Sitting at the head of the table for staff members was Dumbledore. I smiled as I saw him. Snape sat three seats away from him, between the long man I'd seen on the train and his eagle, who looked like it was gnawing on a hunk of raw meat. Snape was trying to avoid looking at the dark blood oozing onto the plate.  
  
"Join us, Professor," Dumbledore called to Hagrid, who smiled and strode over. The first years crept timidly into the Hall.  
  
A hat suddenly soared into the air and began singing. I wondered for the umpteenth time that day if I was dreaming.  
  
"_Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
_But do not judge on what you see,_  
_I'll eat myself if you can find_  
_A smarter hat than me.  
You can keep your bowlers black,  
Your top hats sleek and tall,  
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat  
And I can top them all.  
There's nothing hidden in your head  
The Sorting Hat can't see,  
So try me on and I will tell you where you ought to be.  
You might belong in Gryffindor  
Where dwell the brave at heart,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Set Gryffindors apart;  
You might belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where they are just and loyal  
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true  
And unafraid of toil;  
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw  
If you've a ready mind,  
Where those of wit and learning  
Will always find their kind;  
Or perhaps in Slytherin  
You'll make your real friends  
Those cunning folk use any means   
To achieve their ends.  
So put me on! Don't be afraid!  
And don't get in a flap!  
You're in safe hands (though I have none)  
For I'm a thinking Cap!"_  
  
The entire Hall burst into applause. Will was cheering wildly, glad for the opportunity to yell. I joined him, whooping and yelling until people began to settle down. A tall, thin, just-looking gray-haired woman with square glasses stood next to a small stool that was supporting the battered, patched hat. She unrolled a scroll and read, "Aaron, Sarah!"  
  
A slightly pudgy, curly haired girl made her way up to the stool. McGonagall motioned for her to put the hat on. It slipped over her eyes. After a moment's hesitation, the hat cried out, "RAVENCLAW!"  
  
The girl tottered her way to the table.  
  
Will was sighing with relief. "Why're you so happy all of a sudden?"  
  
"I just thought that the ceremony would be harder."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"Abel, Kent!"  
  
A long pause. "HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
My heart leapt into my throat. My last name was coming up soon. What if I was sent out? What if the hat just yelled out, "SORRY, YOU DON'T BELONG ANYWHERE!" What then?  
  
The woman read through "Abbot, Laura" (Hufflepuff), "Achern, Mortimer" (Slytherin). My attention drifted until my name was called.  
  
"Aidenn, Malory!"  
  
My heart froze. I walked towards the stool slowly, as though I was stumbling towards my own beheading. As I walked along, "Acantha, Leila" (Slytherin) locked eyes with me. She was very pretty, but too angular, her features too sharp and impersonal. She was one to be admired from a distance, but to be wary of up close. Her glance was not at all pleasant; if anything, it felt like a threat. A challenge to turn back. I narrowed my eyes at her and walked towards the Sorting Hat with a quicker pace, wanting to get this over with.   
  
Jamming the hat over my head, I was surprised to find a tiny voice whisper into my ear.  
  
"Oh my, you've had your share of bad luck, haven't you? Hufflepuff wouldn't be good for you, you're a bit too impulsive for it. Too sly for Ravenclaw. Cleverness and wisdom are quite, quite different...Gryffindor and Slytherin are both excellent choices...you're very daring, and you've got quite a bit of nerve...a bit too much some might say. But then Slytherin would help you make up for all those years of humiliation. Slytherin wouldn't be too bad..." I looked over at the Slytherin table. I wasn't too bothered by Leila, but then I caught sight of Jill, the girl I'd met earlier in   
Madam Malkin's Robes.  
  
_Not a chance in hell_, I muttered inwardly.  
  
"No? Well...you've a thirst to prove your worth...I dare say your aunt pounded   
that into you...you love a challenge...you always want more...and since you're so against Slytherin, I suppose it'd better be GRYFFINDOR!"  
I walked over as the Great Hall cheered, not realizing that I'd had the longest wait out of the first years that had been sorted so far. I was too relieved that I hadn't been placed in Slytherin. The potential prospect of having to undergo seven years with Jill had been terrifying.  
  
I didn't pay much attention unless a first year was sorted into Gryffindor. I greeted my new House members happily, finally feeling a sense of contentment that I hadn't known since I'd moved in with my aunt. I felt like I belonged. Like I had a family. One of the girls introduced herself as Will's older sister, Margaret. I smiled at her distractedly and kept watching the line of first years.  
  
Finally, the woman called out, "Hugh, Will." I crossed my fingers.  
  
Will barely set the hat over his hair when it screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
I jumped up in my seat and whooped with joy. "YES! YES!"  
  
Grinning from ear to ear, Will loped over to sit between me and Margaret. "Good job, William," she murmured.  
  
"YEAH!" I shouted, grinning as broadly as Will. My enthusiasm seemed to be contagious, for the other kids at the table who I'd never seen before began patting Will on the arm or back, congratulating him. Will flushed.   
  
Finally, after "Zebrine, Alexander" had been sorted into Ravenclaw, Dumbledore stood up to address us. "Before we start our magnificent feast, we must sing the school song!" He smiled brightly.  
  
There were murmurs and groans from the entire populace. Dumbledore began waving his wand to some unheard melody, then finally pointed at the far wall. A gold ribbon shot out of it and wove smoothly into the words of the song. There was no tune, or rather, everyone sang a different tune, so I just mouthed the words, pretending to sing.  
  
Leila was the last one to finish, her voice as cold and imperial as her appearance. She was obviously looking for praise. Suddenly, she shot me another dark look. I returned it. Why did she keep glaring at me? When she sat down, Dumbledore summoned the ribbon back into his wand.  
  
"Now, as I don't want to keep you from all the magnificent food that's to come up, I'll make my announcements short. No one is to go to the Forbidden Forest as they value their life." He said this calmly, as though he were commenting on how hard it was raining outside. "Secondly, and lastly, Mr. Filch has informed me that the left-hand corridor of the watchtower wing is off-limits. The reasons would take away from your feasting time, and they can come later. So. Let the feast begin!"  
  
The golden platters, jugs, and plates which had been empty during the entire ceremony suddenly became piled high with all sorts of food. I watched longingly as Will coaxed a steak onto his plate. I scooped some salad onto my plate. It was crisp and refreshing.  
  
Will looked at my plate curiously. "Don't you eat meat?"  
  
"I'm a vegetarian," I answered shortly. I bit savagely into a roll, pretending it was the butcher's nose. Curse the butcher and his traumatizing meat.  
  
Will shrugged and cut of a piece of steak.   
  
For some obscure reason, peppermint humbugs, lemon drops, and cinnamon sticks crowded the table as much as the mashed potatoes, steak, pork chops, stew, roasted potatoes, roasted chestnuts, roasted chicken, rolls, loaves of bread, and jugs of sparkling cider that left you tingling after you drank it. I gnawed on a lemon drop as Will finished his mug of cider with a contented sigh.  
  
When everyone had pretty much finished, the plates cleared by themselves and floated towards the kitchen. Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Students who put their luggage into the baggage compartment, please stay here. A prefect will show you to your rooms."  
  
  
Full, content, my equipment lying in a heap at the foot of my bed, I wondered yet again why Leila seemed to hate me so much. I'd never seen her before in my life, and she'd never seen me, to my knowledge. With relaxed thoughts on my mind, I drifted into a deep sleep. My first night at Hogwarts passed by in a whirl of unconscious color, which I remembered only vaguely in the morning.  
  
a/n: so....did you like it? hate it? have any constuctive critisism...whatever? please respond and tell me! my e-mail's Yonjee17@AOL.com  
  
please review and tell me what you think of this series!


	4. Default Chapter Title

  
  


Over Sea  
  
More Acquaintances  
  


The next morning, I awoke to a gentle nudging at my ribs. I blinked groggily, wondering what time it was. The violet that Jimmy had given me bloomed brightly in a small glass. I glanced at the clock. Instead of the glowing digital numbers I expected to see, it read: _If you don't get up now you'll miss breakfast._  
  
I jumped to my feet, nearly crushing the fuzzy object that had been so intent on waking me. Glancing down, I beheld Cat, frazzled looking, who mewed at me reproachfully. I laughed and picked her up. "Sorry about that." She purred. I set her down on the nightstand and slipped into a pair of jeans and the only blouse I owned, short-sleeved and the mild off-white color that spoke of the many hazards it had been through. Slipping my robe over my clothes, I glanced into the mirror and tried to pat down a few flyaways.   
  
"It won't work, I'm afraid. You should put some texturizer in that."  
  
I yelled and jumped back. "Who was that?"  
  
"Your mirror, my dear."  
  
I blinked. "My mirror's giving me fashion advice?"  
  
The oval of glass remained silent. Shrugging and left, smoothing some of my neighboring roommate's gel into my hair so that I could avoid looking like Cat. I closed the dormroom door behind me so that Cat couldn't wander away and made my way towards the Great Hall.  
  
The Great Hall buzzed with noise and excitement as the first breakfast commenced. Will waved towards me and ushered me over to an empty seat beside him. "Have you seen Cat?" he asked as I sat down.  
  
"Yeah, she woke me up today."  
  
Will laughed. "Really? Is she still in your room?"  
  
"Yeah, I left her there. You don't mind, do you?"  
  
"No, but could you return her to me in the common room after dinner?"  
  
"Sure." I wolfed down my pancakes after drenching them in syrup, then checked over my schedule. The only words that I recognized or understood were Potions, Astronomy and History. The rest, Herbology, Transfiguration, Charms, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Standard Care for Magical Creatures, they were all Greek to me. _At least they don't have math_, I thought. _Unless 'Transfiguration' is some other way of saying pre-algebra_.  
  
"Hey Malory, we've got a few classes together." Will had been looking over my shoulder to read my schedule.   
  
"Oh? Which ones?"  
  
"Um...Astronomy, Transfiguration, and Charms."  
  
"Here, let me see." A girl with shining brown ringlets and pale green eyes leaned over Will's shoulder (not at all an easy task) and looked over my schedule.  
  
"Aren't you one of my roommates?" I asked.  
  
"Yeah. My name's Irene Kane. That's my brother Jasper over there." She jerked her finger in the direction of a boy with the same curly brown hair as her, whose leanness and sensitive features reminded me of a juvenile greyhound. He was laughing and drinking a large glass of orange juice. "We're twins."  
  
What Jim would have given to be here. He'd only seen one pair of twins, a pair of babies whose parents' car had broken down near the market. He'd fairly goggled at the sight of seeing two identical, sleeping children in an oversized stroller.  
  
Irene, still studying my schedule, suddenly bellowed "HEY, JASPER! GET OVER HERE!"  
  
I winced slightly. For such a lithe figure, she had a tremendously loud voice. Her brother came strolling over. "This is Malory."  
  
I shook hands with Jasper, who summed me up with his quick, darting eyes. His eyes were the same color as his sister's, a faded shade of spring grass that made me relaxed and jumpy in one glance. "Hullo. Jasper Kane."   
  
"Malory Aidenn."  
  
"Will Hugh."  
  
After he'd exchanged handshakes with Will, he jerked his head over to Irene. "I'm related to her."  
  
"I should say you are," Irene muttered, still looking over my schedule. "Some of the things you've done...if we weren't siblings I would've killed you."  
  
"I doubt it," Jasper said indifferently without even glancing at his sister. He took a sip of his orange juice. "You don't have the strength or the brains."  
  
Irene frowned, but didn't take her eyes off my schedule. I had the feeling that they were in the midst of some subconscious contest, so I refrained from snatching it away from her. Completely ignoring her brother's remark, she told me "I've got Astronomy, Charms, and Potions with you."  
  
"Here, let me see." Jasper snatched my schedule out of his sister's hands. "Oh, I've got Astronomy, History, and Charms with you. Isn't that curious, all four of us have Astronomy and Charms together."  
  
Irene glared at her twin. She snatched my schedule back and handed it to me. Jasper glared back at her. The atmosphere hinted that they were constantly battling against each other, so I ignored the stony looks that the twins were sending each other and looked at my schedule to see my other classes, which had become somewhat wrinkled.   
  
Trying to break the silence, Will cleared his throat. "What time is Astronomy?"  
  
"You have your own schedule," I said, a corner of my mouth twitching up at his obvious attempt to restore the peace. "Are you too lazy to get it out?"  
  
"Yep. So, what time is it?"  
  
"Right after lunch and before dinner," Irene cut in, still staring coldly in the direction of her brother.  
  
I glanced at her. Had she memorized my schedule so quickly? "Yeah, it is. We have Potions first, Irene."  
  
My voice snapped her gaze away from Jasper. She pulled her own schedule out of her coat pocket and glanced at it. "Oh yes. I've heard that the teacher's hard."  
  
"Who's the teacher?"  
  
"'Professor Severus Snape,'" she replied, reading off of her schedule.  
  
Professor Snape. Of course. He'd told me the class he taught the day before. "He's not that hard," I replied.  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"Er, I met him once before."  
  
"Really?" Irene queried, curious. "What was he like?"  
  
"Well...he didn't talk much. He wasn't _nice_, exactly, but he wasn't mean. Sort of stern."  
  
"Oh. My sister told me he was an ugly git," Will grinned. "If the rest of the student body shares her opinion, he can't be that good."  
  
"Well, we'll find out what he's really like soon enough," I said lightly. "The starting bell's going to ring in ten minutes." Several older students had left earlier, and Irene and Jasper hastened to follow their example. "What's the rush? We still have ten minutes."  
  
"Have you seen some of the trick doors around here?" Jasper demanded. "There are a few that lead outside -"  
  
"- and some that move around and change location every few weeks -" Irene chimed in.  
  
"- and some that look like the wall so you can't find them -"  
  
"- and some parts of the wall look like the doors so you end up trying to open the wall -"  
  
"- and a few of staircases are designed to look like the stones -"  
  
"- and a few of them start off in one place and then when you're done climbing them you end up right back where you started -"  
  
"- and some of the move around so that you have to chase them -"  
  
"- and then there's Peeves," Irene finished, frowning. She was completely packed up.   
  
I shoved my schedule into my pocket and shouldered my bag. "Who's Peeves?"  
  
"The school poltergeist," Jasper answered calmly.  
  
I'd seen two of my rowdier cousins watch **The Exorcist** when I was younger, and I remembered that movie as the only film that gave me nightmares. The very mention of a poltergeist made my eyes widen with fright and apprehension. Trying to sound as casual as humanly possible, I asked, "Has Peeves ever, oh, killed anybody?"  
  
Jasper shot me an amused glance. "No, unless he annoyed them so much that they ended up killing themselves. He just likes to pester people, he won't hurt you. But he likes to make people late, and I can guarantee that Snape _will_ hurt you if you get to class after the bell rings."  
  
I took one last pull at my milk and waved over my shoulder to Will and Jasper, following Irene. She seemed to know the way, for in less than six minutes we stood before a dungeon door that proclaimed in large letters:  


  
POTIONS  
PROFESSOR SEVERUS SNAPE  
BEGINNER, INTERMEDIATE, ADVANCED  


  
For some obscure reason, the very fact that Snape's classroom was in a dungeon boded ill with me. I said as much to Irene, who laughed, and pushed the heavy door open, straining lightly against its weight.  
  
Irene and I were the only students who'd come in so far. Snape stood at his desk, clutching his hand. It looked as though he'd burned it on a cauldron. Jim's flowers, still fresh but the color slightly bronzed, stood on a dish beside it. He was scowling furiously at the cauldron. Irene giggled softly, trying to suppress her voice, but in vain.  
  
The sound was as loud as a yell in the silence. Snape whirled around. "What are you doing here?" he asked crossly. "You're four minutes early."  
  
"I generally thought that Professors encouraged their students to come to class early," I replied.  
  
"Well, I'm the sole exception," he snapped. Moving in front of the cauldron to block it from view, he waved his wand at the door and it swung open. "Out. And don't come in a minute too late. I expect my students to come promptly on time." Irene and I didn't move. "Out! Out or I'll start taking off points!"  
  
I stared. This wasn't the Snape who I'd met at Kent. This was a completely different man, and decidedly less pleasant.  
  
"OUT!"  
  
We both scurried away from Snape's glowering face. The door slammed shut behind us. "Looks as though Margaret's opinion was a bit more accurate," Irene muttered, glaring at the door.  
  
I frowned. Maybe it was the atmosphere of the classroom that changed him. Teaching in a dungeon wasn't exactly the most pleasant profession you could choose. Though the explanation was a bit too vague, I settled for it hastily as the first bell rang. Irene and I pushed through the door for the second time in a five minute period.  
  
The cauldron and Jim's flowers had disappeared from view. Snape's burn had disappeared.   
  
After seeing that he wasn't going to assign seats, Irene sat down at a desk in the fourth row and pointed towards the desk next to her, motioning for me to sit down. I complied gratefully and watched the last student trickle in as the ringing came to a halt.  
  
Snape glanced at a scroll and called out, "Malory Aidenn!"  
  
"Here," I answered.  
  
"Charlie Ambrose!"  
  
"Here."  
  
Snape finished the roll call and made the scroll disappear with a snap of his fingers. He looked up, his black eyes as empty and cold as the corridor outside his door. I shivered.   
  
"Many of you may think that Potions is a waste of time," he said softly, barely raising his voice, yet somehow managing to keep everyone's attention. "There's no unnecessary wand-waving in this room, but I'll be able to teach you some things that no amount of wands will ever be able to do." He glanced about the class, then seeing that they were listening raptly, he continued, "I can teach you how to bottle life and death, how to brew fame and wealth, that is of course if you aren't the bunch of idiots that I usually get." He paused, then barked out, "Well, why aren't your materials out?"  
  
Everyone immediately rummaged for their equipment. I had gotten my inkwell and parchment out on my desk when I suddenly realized I'd left my quill at the table. "Can I borrow a quill?" I whispered to Irene. She handed me one wordlessly.  
  
"Five points from Gryffindor, Miss Aidenn. I'll not have my students hiss and pass notes in class."  
  
"But I only asked her for a quill," I began indignantly.  
  
"Five more points off of Gryffindor," he said smoothly. "I'll not have my students talk back to me either."  
  
"But -"  
  
"SILENCE."  
  
I shut my mouth, glaring at Snape.   
  
"Good. I'm going to pair you up, and instruct you on how to make a boil-curing potion." He passed by rows, pairing people up randomly. Irene and I were paired together, and we hurried over to the cupboard where Snape kept all of his cauldrons.   
  
"He's in a shitty mood," I muttered to Irene. Irene nodded in agreement, frowning, though whether Snape's mood was upsetting her or my language, I didn't know. Under Irene's capable instructions and my steadier hand, we managed to make a perfect boil-cure brew. Snape swooped down on us like a hawk as soon as he saw we were finished.   
  
"Well. It doesn't look too bad." With that, he left to hound Fairfax Jacobs, a Ravenclaw boy.  
  
Irene let her breath sigh out of her lips. "I thought he was going to take off more points."   
  
"Kreeeeee kree-kree-kree ckaa!"  
  
The entire class looked up to behold a huge golden eagle swoop into the classroom, screeching loudly. I recognized as the one who belonged to the man I'd seen on the train. A small, empty bottle with a note attached was tied to its leg. Snape snatched the bottle and the note out of their bindings, his mouth twisting in irritation as he saw what the note said. Muttering darkly, he marched over to his cupboard and filled the bottle with a shimmering, rosy liquid. Corking it, he handed the bottle back to the eagle, who took it in its mouth, screeched awkwardly once more, then left, barely fitting through the doorway.  
  
Everyone had been staring at the eagle. Snape, at the lack of movement behind him, whirled around. "What are you doing?" he snapped. "You've never seen a bird before? Get back to work!"  
  
Immediately, the dungeon was filled with the noise of students busy at work. Irene and I looked for a sink, but the only thing we could find was a large hand basin with little stone gargoyles decorating the edge. "Is that the sink?" Irene asked me.  
  
"How should I know? I'm as new here as you." We walked over and each of us stood in front of a gargoyle, staring at them as though they'd tell us exactly how to work the sink. "What the hell are we supposed to do?" I demanded of a fat gargoyle with two stubby horns and equally stubby wings sprouting out of its back.  
  
"Just stick yer 'ands under me mouth," it muttered back.  
  
Irene jumped at the gargoyle's voice. "Who was that?" The gargoyle turned its stone head rather stiffly to look at her. The alarmed spark in her eye died down. "Oh. That." I glanced at her. "We used to have one at home, but it ran off with one of the garden gnomes." She stuck her hands under the mouth of a meaner-looking gargoyle with oblong slits for eyes. A jet of water hissed from its mouth.  
  
I was about to stick my hands under the fat gargoyle's mouth when it muttered, "Try the feller next ter me. I'm out o' order."  
  
"Um...alright." I moved over to a lean gargoyle with a hawk's face and talons. An icy surge of water ran over my hands, numbing them instantly. After we'd both finished patting our feeling-deprived hands dry on a threadbare towel, Irene and I returned to our desks. A few other pairs had finished and were sitting at their desks. Irene yawned and tried to speak at the same time, but it came out as an incoherent mumble.  
  
"What?"  
  
She yawned one more time, then repeated her question a bit more understandably. "What time is it?"  
  
I glanced at the clock. "Um...it says 'It's time to stop looking at the clock and get back to work.'"  
  
"Oh. Good, class is almost over then."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"There's a system to interpreting these clocks. What they say depends on the owner. See, take Marilyn's clock for example -"  
  
"Marilyn?"  
  
"The girl who sleeps in the bed next to mine. Anyway, I asked her for the time and her watch said 'Put on a new layer of foundation or everyone will see that zit on your chin at dinner-'"  
  
I began laughing giddily. Irene grinned. "I thought that the mirrors were the only things that are supposed to give you fashion advice."  
  
"Yeah, well, I guess hers is the exception. She needs it, anyway. Anyway, back to the point. See. The watch served its purpose, it told her that it was around dinnertime, but it basically reflected Marilyn's needs and personality. So, take Snape. He obviously wants to torment his students as long as possible, so the clock's as grumpy as he is, since class is about to end soon."  
  
"Oh." I wasn't aware that Irene had such a firm grip on human psychology. "What does your clock say?"  
  
Irene looked at the feet of her desk. "I don't have one."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"I'm half-afraid of what it'll say." She grinned at me sheepishly. I smiled back.  
  
"Well don't feel bad. I don't even have a norma - I mean muggle watch. Does your brother have a clock?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"What's his like?"  
  
"Annoying," she grumbled. "Exactly like him." I laughed.  
  
As soon as the bell rang, everyone darted for the door, but Snape's voice stopped them. "Wait! Homework, I want Chapter two summarized, no less than eighteen inches of parchment. Class dismissed."  
  
The class immediately erupted into a wave of protest. Snape glared at them, and they grew silent.  
  
"How can he give us so much homework in one day?" Irene protested as we left his room. "Especially on the first day of class!"  
  
"You should have seen my old school," I replied. "What do we have next?"  
  
"Charms."  
  
"I see." I stepped onto the first step of a long, carved stairwell -- and fell flat on my face. "What the...?" The stairway had moved a foot to the right.  
  
Irene frowned. "Oh no."  
  
"What?"  
  
"This is one of the moving stairways." She pretended to glance over her shoulder at a suit of armor, letting her arm creep unnoticed onto the railing. Quick as a flash, she was hanging on for dear life on the third step as the stairwell sped away with her. "Get my bag!" she yelled back to me.  
  
I flung the two bags over my shoulder and raced after the stairwell. It was like chasing a racehorse. Finally, abandoning all dignity, I flung myself at the lowest bar of the railing. The stairwell stopped, defeated. Triumphantly, I climbed up after Irene.   
  
"I think it's a right turn..." We looked around for the door. Irene's jaw dropped as she looked up. "How the heck are we supposed to get up there?"  
  
The door was fitted neatly onto the ceiling.  
  
"Geez...you'd think they didn't want us to get to class."  
  
"Here, get on my shoulders."  
  
I climbed onto Irene's shoulders and reached for the doorknob. It was an infuriating two inches away from my fingertips. "Can you get a little higher?" Irene stood on her toes. It was still about half an inch out of reach.  
  
"Um...Malory?"  
  
I grunted in response, reaching desperately for the knob.  
  
"Look." I glanced down. A long, silken rope was hanging by Irene's hand, unnoticed by both of us in our rush to get to class.   
  
My shoulders slumped. "You have got to be kidding me." I jumped down from Irene's shoulders. She tugged on the rope, and a light stepladder fell to our feet. We climbed it and ventured into the classroom.  
  
I spotted Will and Jasper and made my way over to where they were sitting. Irene pointedly sat to my left, as far away from her brother as she could get. "Where's the teacher?" I asked.  
  
"I don't know," Will replied. "He hasn't shown up -"  
  
"Ah, sorry, extremely sorry. I apologize for my late entrance." I peered over my desk to see who the speaker was.  
  
A tiny, stout man whose hair was white with age, about four feet high, eyes twinkling youthfully, stood behind his desk. With a minuscule jump, he managed to get on his chair and address the class, his feet dangling a foot from the ground. "My name is Professor Flitwick." He smiled at the class, his face crinkling into a contented expression. "I'm to be your professor in Charm work." He set what looked like three coconuts and a bunch of grapes onto his desk. "If all goes well, you'll have a wonderful time in this classroom." He tapped the coconuts and the grapes. The coconuts burst into a lively calypso tune, and the grapes pulled each other apart, each fruit dancing to the tune. After a couple minutes, the coconuts stopped singing, and the grapes bowed. The class burst into spirited applause, eagerly waiting for Professor Flitwick to show them how to make fruit sing and dance.  
  
"Turn to page thirty-five, please."  
  
A merry, colorful picture of a man floating about in his chair, his tea conveniently floating at his elbow, graced the page. Words appeared below the picture in flowing script.  


  
Wingardium Leviosa  
(Wing-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa)  


  
"Now class, please repeat after me: _Wingardium Leviosa!"_  
  
_"Wingardium Leviosa!"_ the class rang out obediently.  
  
"Very good. Now remember, swish and flick your wand. And please take care to pronounce the words correctly." He came around and placed a feather on everybody's desk. As he came to our desks he murmured, "Now, I suppose I'll have to pair you up. Irene, why don't you work with your brother? Will, you can work with Malory, Kent, work with..."  
  
Irene and Jasper gave each other murderous glances, then reluctantly moved so that they sat next to each other. Will shifted his bags over and extracted his wand out of his bag. It was long and dark, ebony. "You want to try first?"  
  
"Okay." I cleared my throat and pointed my wand at the feather. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_  
  
Nothing happened.  
  
"Here, let me try." Will scooted his chair over importantly and swished his wand. _"Wingardium Leviosa!"_  
  
Again, nothing.  
  
"Here, let's try it together."  
  
Will nodded and counted to three.   
  
"One...two..._Wingardium Leviosa!"_  
  
The feather drifted idly across the desk, as though someone were blowing on it, but other than that, didn't move. Crestfallen, Will eyed Irene and Jasper's progress. They were bickering about how to pronounce the spell.  
  
"Look, it's in the book, see, _Wing-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa_," Jasper snapped.  
  
"But Professor Flitwick said it more like, _Wingard-I-um Lev-I-osa_," Irene quipped.  
  
I glanced at my book and tried pronouncing it the way it said. Swish, flick, _"Wing-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa!"_  
  
The feather slowly came to hover about a foot in the air for about five seconds before floating back to the desk. "I did it!" I yelled excitedly.   
  
"Here, let me try." Will's turn brought the feather up two feet, but this time it floated down a bit more quickly.  
  
"See," Jasper said smugly. "I told you."  
  
"Fine. Let's see you do it."  
  
Jasper narrowed his eyes at the feather, flicked his wand, and muttered, _"Wing-GAR-dium Levi-O-sa!"_  
  
His feather shot up five feet above our heads and hovered steadily.   
  
Professor Flitwick gave a cry of delight. "Well done, Jasper! Well done! Look everyone!"  
  
Irene sulked for the rest class. She didn't speak to Jasper all throughout lunch either, but instead directed any questions she had for him through me. Finally, after she asked me for the third time, "Malory, ask my brother to pass the salt," I snapped, "For Pete's sake, I'm not the communications highway. If you want the salt, ask Jasper."  
  
Irene shot me the look that she'd been reserving for Jasper, then asked "Jasper, may I please have the salt?" Her politeness was degraded by the fact that she was talking through clenched teeth.  
  
"Of course you may, dear sister," Jasper replied, pronouncing the words 'dear sister' with some irony.   
  
"Thank you, sibling," Irene murmured back, gripping the saltshaker so hard that I was afraid the glass would crack.  
  
"This is almost worse than before," Will whispered to me. I nodded in agreement. The bell rang for the next class. Will clapped his hands together and announced cheerfully, "Well, sorry to interrupt, but it looks like we have to get to Astronomy." His voice was uncharacteristically bright.  
  
Irene jammed the Herbology book she'd been looking over into her bag forcefully. As she turned her back, Jasper made a face at her. Will shook his head slightly and swung his bag over his shoulder. "Malory and I'll go ahead first. We'll save you guys a seat."  
  
Irene nodded to acknowledge Will's comment, and Jasper said "Thanks, we'll be there soon."  
  
"I hope they're in a better mood by the time they get to class," I said under my breath.  
  
Will agreed. The prospect of having to sit through three and a half hours of glares and icy exchanges was as unappealing to him as it was to me.


	5. Default Chapter Title

  


Over Sea  
  
Signs  
  


The watchtower room was designed like an ampitheatre, round, each row of desks slowly rising so that the students sitting in the back had the highest seats and could avoid the annoyance of having to peer over the student in front of him to see what was going on. A few other students dotted the desks. One of them, an angular girl with blond hair and cold blue eyes shot me a look that I recognized immediately. It was Leila.   
  
"Let's sit here." Will motioned towards a group of desks positioned nearest to the window.   
  
"Alright." The desks in in this room seemed much older. They were made of a smooth, dark wood that had been polished at some point, but were now so aged that all the shine had been rubbed off. While all the other desks had been somewhat adorned with pencil sketches or carved initials, the surface of these desks were perfectly clean. I took out my telescope, the quill that Irene had loaned me, a couple sheets of parchment and my inkwell.   
  
Will grinned as he watched my preparations. "Getting ready for class already?"  
  
"You never know," I answered. "The teacher could be another Snape."  
  
"Good point." Will began rummaging around in his bag for a quill.   
  
"You won't need a telescope, considering it's still bright outside. Of course, maybe you didn't realize that." I looked up. Leila was standing pompously over me, her robes starched and neat, the creases sharp as knives. She was looking down her perfect nose at my crowded desk.  
  
I glanced up at her politely. "May I help you?," I asked, my voice dripping with false docileness.  
  
"You're Aidenn?"  
  
"You could say that."  
  
"I'm Leila Acantha. Our fathers knew each other." She didn't offer her hand, and I had no intention to offer mine.  
  
"So, where does that leave us?"  
  
Leila smirked, her proud mouth pulled up at one corner, saying nothing. Her superior attitude was beginning to get on my nerves. Still saying nothing, she turned to leave. Will, unaware of the exchange that had gone on between us, yawned and stretched out, his long legs sticking out to the side. To his utter surprise and my slight satisfaction, she tripped over them and stumbled visibly. "Oh, sorry, I didn't see -"  
  
Leila kicked at Will's leg spitefully. That cut his apology short. I was impressed; in a window of ten minutes, Leila had already made two enemies.   
  
Just as the bell rang, Irene and Jasper burst into the classroom, followed by a few other students. Jasper's hair was powdered with what looked like chalkdust,   
and Irene's face was lightly spattered with ink. "What happened?," Will inquired.   
  
"Peeves," Irene answered curtly. It seemed that she and Jasper were on better terms, as she sat next to her brother without protest. I almost gave a sigh of relief. Will shot me a relieved glance. As the bell stopped ringing, everyone slowly filtered into the classroom but there was no sign of the teacher. Ten minutes passed, and still no one walked into the classroom. Whispers began spreading across the classroom, trying to guess the location of the classroom. A boy on the side of the room opposite the door started using his telescope to see if anyone was coming. Suddenly he cried out. "Quick! Something's coming!"  
  
Everyone hurtled back to their seats. I heard a heavy footfall, growing nearer, sounding oddly like hooves beating upon the ground. But I shook the absurd thought out of my mind with a chuckle. Why would anyone ride a horse to class? The door flew open, and everyone gasped at the creature that rode in. I recognized him vaguely from illustrations I'd seen in a book on Greek Myths at the small public library back in Water-At-the-Bridge. Gleaming in the afternoon sunlight, his rippling, hazel coat matched his hair and the beginning traces of a beard. From the torso up, he was a strongly muscled, bronzed, bare-chested young man. Below that, the body of a long-legged draft horse pawed at the floor. "I'm afraid that Professor Sinistra will be busy for the next week or so, perhaps longer," he intoned, his voice rich and golden as the sunlight. "So until he is able to attend to his students, I will take his place. My name is Ignatius. Use it well." He moved to the chalkboard and wrote twelve words onto the board:  
  
  
Aries  
  
Taurus  
  
Gemini  
  
Cancer  
  
Leo  
  
Virgo  
  
Libra  
  
Scorpio  
  
Sagitarius  
  
Capricorn  
  
Aquarius  
  
Pisces  
  
  
He turned to us. "I trust you know what these are. The Zodiac is known even among the nonmagic world, if somewhat misused in false predictions. Each name stands for a constellation, each one governed by a different planet, and each with a different symbol that stands for it. Each planet also has a symbol, like the constellations that they rule."  
  
A boy in the back row raised his hand and asked in a rather arrogant tone, "But sir, isn't the study of the Zodiac astrology? For horoscopes and stuff?"  
  
Ignatius gazed at the top row, seeking the speaker with his eyes. Finally, he murmured in a voice that carried throughout the entire class, "You'll soon find that the study of astronomy and astrology are closely linked. It is only to the narrow-minded that a solid gap lies between them."  
  
The boy flushed and looked down at his desk.  
  
"I realize that it is too early in the day to do any observing. That is why Wednesday, at midnight, I expect all of you to be here, so that we may watch the movements of the planets." Ignatius lifted a sheaf of parchment from the teacher's desk and walked around the classroom, setting one sheet down on each desk. I looked curiously at mine. Intricate diagrams of the Zodiac constellations were sketched meticulously on them, each one with a column of informations streaming from its side. Jim's mother had taught me once how to read my own horoscope, and I scanned the writing for my constellation.   
  
It was impossible to see the image of the mythical water-bearer in the confusion of stars. I read over the information that went with it.  
  
_Aquarius is one of the more complex signs. Ruled by the planet Uranus, Aquarius is an air sign, which shows an intellectual and eccentric nature._  
  
A diagram of the movement of the planet Uranus was drawn beneath this.  
  
_As seen in the diagram, Uranus orbits the sun on a completely tilted axis..._  
  
"This is boring," Jasper yawned. "Listen to this: 'As a sign under Mercury, Geminis are quick-witted, hot-tempered when provoked, well-read, and intelligent.' They're supposed to be able to say all of this from the way a planet moves? That's just a -"  
  
"- load of dung," Irene put in firmly. Jasper darted an amused glance at her. It appeared that he had the same swearing problem as I.  
  
"Well, it seems stupid now," Will said slowly. "But think about how much centaurs can predict from planet movements. They've only been wrong about seven times throughout the entire history of mankind. That's got to be some kind of record. It can't be a total crock if theyve been right so many times. Maybe this is just an introduction for us." He looked up thoughtfully.  
  
I glanced at the clock and sighed. School had never agreed with me, and even the many wonders of Hogwarts were no exception. I found myself counting the minutes until the dismissal bell rang. Ignatius told us to memorize the chart discussing the planetary rotations he'd handed out at the door as homeowrk. As I took my sheet, I noticed him cast a brooding look out the window at the forest.  
  
Jasper was frowning at the chart, turning his head comically as he attempted to make sense out of the sprials and planets. "I still don't get it," he muttered, his head   
tilted completely to the side as he squinted at the diagram.  
  
"Oh honestly," Irene sighed, her tone somewhat smug. "Here - see that?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"That's Pluto. Now see the planet right in front of it?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"That's Neptune. Now see -"  
  
"No, but look here. It says 'Saturn' right next to it."  
  
"It says 'Saturn' right next to where Saturn is," Irene said, exhasperated. "Can't you see it?" She jabbed her finger at a point on the map. A couple of the portraits began chuckling.  
  
"No," Jasper said stubbornly.  
  
Will glanced at me. I shrugged in response. _This must be what they're normally like_, I mouthed. Maybe they were happier bickering all the time.  
  
A loud rumble coming from outside made us whirl around to face the window. Jasper and Irene were silent. "Was that thunder?," Irene asked.  
  
"It's a perfectly clear day," Will responded, walking over to the window. Again, the thundering roar vibrated through the castle. A suit of armor clanked over to the window to join Will, peering out the window while leaning heavily on a javelin. Jasper, Irene and I walked over, I standing on my toes to peer over the ledge. Nothing except for the edge of the forest was visible -  
  
"Will!," I exclaimed, grabbing his arm. "Will, did you see it?"  
  
"See what?"  
  
"I could have sworn I saw something..."  
  
Jasper and Irene narrowed their eyes at the forest's edge, then gave me a curious look. "Do you wear glasses?," Irene asked lightly.  
  
"I'm not nearsighted," I snapped.  
  
Jasper smiled patronizingly at my frown before clearing his throat, changing the subject. "I need to get a start on my homework. Why don't we go to the library, see what it's like?"  
  
We moved away from the window in silent agreement, leaving the suit of armor to stand guard alone. But I knew what I'd seen. My eyesight was perfectly normal. I convinced myself that I'd seen something my friends hadn't: a flash of red against the fir-green background of the trees.  
  
  
The library was dusty, filled wall to wall with ancient, moth-eaten books, crowded with tall shelves that even Will wouldn't be able to reach without a tall stepladder, an ominously large part of the library cut off, a sign overhead reading:  


  
RESTRICTED SECTION  


  
The first thought that crossed my mind was a contented mental sigh of _home_. I tried to commit the astronomy chart to memory while Irene's quill scratched over her parchment as she began her summary of Chapter Two for Potions. Jasper was trying unsuccessfully to turn a spare quill into a knitting needle, writing down the results of each failed experiment.  
  
"Which planet rotates on a tilted axis of twenty-three and a half degrees?" Whill asked, quizzing me.  
  
"Earth. I learned that in muggle school, for crying out loud. Ask me something else." I passed all of his questions without difficulty.   
Finally, Will handed the chart back to me. "You're power of memorization annoys me," he whispered with a grin.  
  
"You asked everything?"  
  
"Every question I could think of."  
  
"Good. Then you can help me look something up." I got up and stretched my stiff legs, then walked over to the reference section.  
  
"It would help if I knew what you were looking for," Will demured.  
  
"Oh, sorry. Something on Gregori Quinn."  
  
Will stopped dead in his tracks. "The vampire?"  
  
"I suppose so." I'd reached the "V" bookcases in the "Dark Arts" section.   
  
"How do you know about him? Why do want to -"  
  
"I met him at the Leaky Cauldron." Smiling serenely at my companion, I pointed up to a thick, leather-bound volume that was inaccessible from my height. "Could you get that for me, please?," I asked sweetly.  
  
"First tell me how you met Gregori Quinn."  
  
I summarized my frightening and rather disturbing encounter with the tall, pale man in the pub. Will's eyes widened as I finished. "Wait, so the flower you had in your pocket had his family crest on it?"  
  
"Well...it had the crest he had on his cloak..."  
  
_"Do you know what this means?"_ Will whispered excitedly.  
  
I pointed up to the shelf. "The book, please?"  
  
Will pulled it absent-mindedly from its spot and hissed, "You're absolutely sure that the flower didn't have any markings before?"  
  
"Yes. Why, what are you talking about?"  
  
"Go to the index of the book." I flipped to the very last pages of the book. "Go to 'Vampires,' then go to 'Signs.'" I turned each cracked sheet of parchment until the flowing scrawl came to the letter V. "Now go to 'Signs of.'" Running my finger along the page, I blinked at the two-page long column that listed the page numbers of signs of resurrection, signs of death, signs of life, signs of enslavement, and -  
  
"'Signs of Mastery,' page seven fifty-nine."  
  
I flipped the pages until I came across a large illustration of what looked like a rather gaudy rose, dark in hue, a large swooping bat etched into one of its petals. The man who was holding also had a shriveled vampire by the throat.  
  
"'Vampires are almost impossible to conquer without the actual destruction of the creature. That is why mastery of a vampire is a rare and priceless gift to obtain. A sure sign of mastery over a Son of the Dark is when a dark-hued flower of any species, held by the witch or wizard, becomes graced by the family crest of the vampire she first comes in contact with. These blossoms last forever, and can only be burned by the owner. So far in history, only two masters have been known: Kenway Hayes, 1145-1206, of Surrey, and Yasmin Petrina, who currently resides in India. '"  
  
"That...that doesn't necessarily mean anything," I whispered, stunned by this new revelation. My coquettish good mood had evaporated into a thrill of horror and surprise that settled heavily at the bottom of my stomach.  
  
"Are you kidding me? Malory, if I'm right, you're the first master in over two centuries!"  
  
"But maybe you're not right," I countered. The idea of being connected in any way to Gregori Quinn was an idea I didn't want to embrace. "If this book's right, master are really rare, which makes my chance of being one very slim." Will opened his mouth to protest. "Look, I probably just didn't notice the mark until after he pointed it out to me! Gregori Quinn is just someone I ran into at a pub. I just wanted to see exactly what he was, but you provided that information a little while ago. This whole master thing is just coincidence. Case closed."   
  
Will took one last look at the hard glint in my eyes and decided to let the subject rest. "Alright. Fine." He replaced the book onto the shelf and we walked in silence towards Irene and Jasper, who'd finished their homework.   
  
"Why'd you disappear on us like that?" Irene asked good-naturedly.  
  
"Just browsing," I answered before Will could say anything. "Come on, let's get   
to the common room. My toes are practically numb."  
  
Will remembered on the way that he had to see the Defense against the Dark Arts teacher about his essay and disappeared up a trick staircase. The fire in the Gryffindor common room crackled and hissed as Irene, Jasper and I approached it. Though the castle wasn't cold, the flames were comforting, and we arranged ourselves comfortably in the airmchairs that stood in front of the hearth. Irene curled up in a bal, her legs tucked under her body, blinking idly at the fire. Her green eyes reflecting the tongues of flame, her mouth curled into a lazy smile. She resembled a cat.  
  
Cat. "Oh, damn. Hold on a minute." I left the security of the fire and walked to   
the dormitory. "Cat?" I called softly. "You still in there?" I opened the door warily, in case the kitten might try to escape between my legs. I could hear a plaintive, insisting mew from inside, and something soft and gray darted for the gap of the open door. I laughed and reached into the room. "Hello there, stranger." Cat kneaded my hands with her velevted paws, looking anxiously over her shoulder. I carried her back into the room, intending to retrieve one of my textbooks before rejoining Jasper and Irene.  
  
Cat struggled wildly in my arms. "What? What is it?" Something scuttled suspiciously over the covers of my bed. I shifted Cat's squirming body so I could see it. It was only a spider.  
  
Laughing, I set Cat down on the nightstand. Seeing that the door was closed and she was stuck in the room, Cat took up the defensive. Hissing madly at the spider, she batted at it with her oustretched paw as best she could without actually touching it. The spider crept deliberately toward her, mocking Cat's attempts at its murder. Rummaging around the room, I found an old slipper that I was sure belonged to one of the past students, and a piece of cardboard. Slipping the cardboard carefully underneath the spider, I slapped it sharply with the slipper, as   
quickly as I could. Cat seemed appeased.   
  
Without warning, the remains of the spider gave a little pop and soon the arachnid was crawling across the covers once more.  
  
Frowning, I smashed the slipper onto it once more. And once more, the crushed body of the spider wove together and came to life.  
  
Shivers prickled my body. Something was gravely wrong. Spiders didn't come back to life after you'd killed them twice. The spider scrambled off my bed and into the hallway. Cat stalked onto the pillow, meowing irritably at me, as though she was scolding me for letting the spider get away. I stroked her absently. Maybe it just had to do with the magic, I thought. That has to be it. That's the only logical explanation. Snape's behavior, the spider...I blamed it all on the magic that floated about on the draft.  
  
  
Will accepted Cat silently after dinner. I had the feeling that he was annoyed with me, and even Irene and Jasper laid off their usual arguing as they sensed the uneasiness bewteen us.   
  
I was the one who broke the silence. "The weirdest thing happened in our dorm room, Irene."  
  
Irene, grateful for a start of conversation, grasped my lead eagerly. "Really? Like what?"  
  
"There was this spider, and I swear, this wasn't my imagination. I smushed it with a slipper twice, and each time it came back to life."  
  
Jasper straightened up in his armchair, and Will, who'd been gazing into the fire, turned his head towards me. "What?"  
  
"There was a spider in my dorm room earlier today, and when I tried to kill it, it came back to life." I looked nervously at the others. "That - that is normal around here, isn't it?"  
  
"I should say not," Jasper exclaimed. "Did you see what kind of spider it was?"  
  
I tried to recall the image of the insect. "I don't know what kind...but it was black, sort of long, with a brown spot on its back."  
  
"Hermit's Recluse," Will murmured. "A Hermit's Recluse that comes back to life. Didn't we read about that somewhere?"  
  
"Yes," Jasper muttered, his face pale. "Professor Mordacai told us about it in Defense. It's the first sign, of the Rising of the Dark."  
  
  



	6. Default Chapter Title

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and any other tangentially mentioned characters created by J. K. Rowling remain her copyrighted property, as well as the copyrighted property of her   
publisher, etc. No copyright infringement is intended. All original characters created by the author remain her property.   
  
"'What, nephew,' said the king, 'is the wind in that door?'" ~Sir Thomas Malory, _Le Morte d' Arthur  
  
_A/N: A couple people asked me when Over Sea takes place. There is no specific date given, but the time I had in mind was a few years after Harry, Ron, and Hermione graduated. So in Muggle terms, they'd be in college by now.  
  


  
Over Sea  
  
  
The Wind in the Doorway  
  


It was silently and unanimously agreed that the incident with the spider wouldn't be reported to Dumbledore. For, as Jasper said, "If we tell Dumbledore and then it turns out to be a false alarm, we'll look like a bunch of asses." But there were other, subtler reasons. None of us wanted to admit that something bad could be happening in this utopia, me least of all. I had no other options after this. Even the recent discovery that my father was alive seemed a remote possibility in the recesses of my mind. Often I wondered if I'd just imagined the entire conversation that I'd had with Dumbledore, that first, exciting day. Maybe my parents were still dead, and only I didn't know it. About two weeks after I found the spider, I began to withdraw from those around me. I didn't notice it at the time, and looking back I wonder how I could have been so narrow-minded. All my friends' attempts at conversations fell to the floor. In class, I did what was required and nothing more, occasionally less. I no longer argued with Snape when he took points off of Gryffindor, a virtue of mine that Jasper, Will, and Irene seemed to admire especially.   
  
To be frank, I don't know why I began my gradual seperation from those around me. I wasn't undergoing any major stress, I wasn't angry at anything. It was as though my personality had gotten very, very tired, and was taking a long hibernation. I'd fall asleep in the common room and forget why I'd come there in the first place. I'd forget the homework assigments within the hour that they'd been assigned, and yet felt that it wasn't worth it to simply ask my friends what they were. I became an entirely different person, triggered by the appearance of a tiny, striped spider.  
  
A letter, dusty and very weather-worn, was the object that brought me out of my hiatus with the rest of my peers. I'd long ago gotten used to the sight of thousands of owls and a smattering of eagles and ravens stream through the window, parcels or letters clasped in their beaks or talons. Not to my surprise, I never got any letters. Jim would probably be too busy, now that the schoolyear had started. And my father, as I said before, seemed a fantasy of my own making. So when a haggard raven dropped a letter, addressed unmistakably to me, on my plate of toast, I was the most surprised.  
  
"Who's it from?," Jasper inquired as his seventh attempt to get me to start talking that morning.  
  
I shrugged half-heartedly in response, turning the letter over with mild curiosity. When I spotted the return address my fingers froze. In golden letters, it read:  
  
  
Pro. Blake Aidenn  
Tent 10  
As-of-yet-Unnamed country #4  
  
  
"'As-of-yet-Unnamed country _number four_'?" Will mumbled around a mouthful of eggs.   
  
Fingers trembling slightly, I eased the lip of the envelope open. Covered in neat, friendly penmanship, sat the words from a man I'd believed to be dead for over eight years. Gratefully enough, my friends seemed to sense that this was a private matter, an began discussing the Quidditch game that was coming up soon over my head.   
  
The letter looked as though it had been lost, trampled on, and folded any number of times. A large tear ran through the words "My Dear Daughter." I began reading.  
  
  
My Dear Daughter, Malory:  
  
  
I trust that your journey to Hogwarts was pleasant enough. Was the barrier tricky? I remember the first time I rode the Hogwarts Express...the day ended with a black eye and a slightly crooked nose. To be perfectly honest, I'm slightly relieved that I persuaded Dumbledore out of taking you himself. Though a fine man, I'm not entirely sure if I trust him behind the steering wheel of any type of vehicle.  
  
I'm absolutely dying to know how your classes are. Has Hogwarts has changed since I've been there(cast your mind back as far as you can, and that will be when I began attending Hogwarts)? Which House were you sorted into? And before you say anything, I want you to realize that I don't care which house you were sorted into, no matter what your new friends may say, there really is no better or worse House in Hogwarts. Which is your favorite class? Mine was always Transfiguration. It's rather difficult, but the results are quite worth it, in my opinion.  
  
I suppose you'll be wanting to know why I couldn't come for you while you were cooped up with that relation of yours. I'm afraid that I'm glad I don't hold any blood ties with your mother's sister. It still perplexes me as to how your wonderful, beautiful, laughing mother was related to that prune-faced old woman. But I digress. You must understand, Malory, that I wanted very dearly to fetch you. Ever since your mother died, you've been the only person who's been in my every thought. I wanted to hear my daughter say her first words, I wanted to see you laugh in the comfort of a home I chose. But there are some things, Malory, that are beyond our control, and as weak an excuse as this is, the weather is one of them.  
  
Such storms you've never seen! I pray that you never will, for they can only be heralds to Dark Forces. Dumbledore told me that he told you I was an in-field researcher and mapmaker. That is partially true. I do make maps, but only for future reference by others such as myself. There are two main forces in the magical world, Malory: The Light and the Dark, the Good and Evil of our world. You are a member of the Light - at least I hope. Heaven knows what sort of trouble you may have been in since I saw you last.  
  
I work for the Ministry, as Dumbledore correctly told you, and for the LIght, researching how the Dark can win over so many elements, so many creatures. We've been striving for many years to find where their true source of power comes from. The storms that prevented me from fetching you, my child, were not made of rain, or hail or sleet. They were of fire and ice. Trees were uprooted as easily as daisies, hurled at my fellow researchers and myself. We weren't in any real danger - poltergeists and flying objects aren't half as dangerous as the people who summon them. But they were enough to isolate us from the rest of the world.   
  
The Dark has moved on: we're not sure where. Though it's a mixed blessing, the only reason why I am able to write to you is because the Dark no longer pursues us. They are now after other quarry.  
  
I hope that you've made many friends. If you happen to see anyone by the name of William or Margaret Hugh, say hello, if you haven't already. I knew their father very well before they were born.  
  
If you need anything, anything at all, use my raven. He looks older than his years, and will probably outlive many of his future masters. Write back.  
  
  
  
Love,  
Your Father  
  
  
Fighting the lump that had risen in my throat, I carefully flattened the letter and placed it in my Transfiguration book, hoping that by the end of the day all the wrinkles would disappear.  
  
"Who was it from?"  
  
"My father." The words felt strange in my mouth. The very act of speaking was renewed, leaving a refreshed feeling in my heart. I felt as though a great burden had been taken off my shoulders. I smiled at my friends. "Which class do we have first today?"  
  
  
The days seemed brighter as I waited for the reply to my own letter. Curious about my practically nonexistent past, I'd asked my father everything, what was my mother like, what was he like, did I have any cousins, or siblings, or aunts(besides Jane) or uncles, where had I been born...  
  
My hiatus had snapped into oblivion with the arrival of my father's letter, and I awaited the upcoming Quidditch match as eagerly and noisily as any of my other Gryffindors. The first match of the year, Gryffindor vs. Ravenclaw.  
  
There were no first years on the team, as no first years were allowed brooms or were talented enough. However, in a bout of school spirit, Madam Hooch decided to begin flying lessons after school on Thursdays, for those who wished to try out for next year. Irene and Jasper were too busy with their Care of Magical Creatures homework to come, so Will and I left together for the empty sports field. I tried to imagine the stands crowded with all the students, and failed. The stands seemed too big for the people whom I'd seen.  
  
"So what are we flying on?" I asked Will as stood waiting for the teacher. Vague images of wizard hangliders drifted across my mind.  
  
"Brooms, of course," Will smiled. "What else?"  
  
"Brooms?" As I said so, about forty brooms glided into our field of view.  
  
They were in extremely poor condition. The handles were faded, some splintering. Odd twigs bent out at strange angles, some tails crusted with mud or coated with a heavy layer of dust. Many looked as though they hadn't been used for many years.  
  
"Those are the brooms we're going to be riding?" I asked skeptically. A broom floated in front of each student and hovered in midair.  
  
Madam Hooch, a short quick woman with the eyes of a hawk, snapped her fingers as she followed in the brooms' wake. Immediately all the brooms fell to the ground. "The first thing I'm going to teach you is how to get a broom off the ground without touching it." She stretched her hand out and opened it, palm facing us. "It's quite simpled really. Just say 'UP' in a firm voice, and the broom should come to your hand."  
  
Easier said than done. Will had little trouble with it. At his first command, the broom fairly jumped into his fingers. I, on the other hand, had a few more difficulties, and the monosyllable wasn't enough. In the end, Madam Hooch had told me to watch my tongue, and be careful not to traumatize the vehicle I was about to ride.  
  
But the broom jumped to my hand quite obediently when I was finished.  
  
Next, she showed us the proper way to hold a broom. One of the Hufflepuffs was having some trouble: he kept holding it as though it were a muggle broom, and he was about to sweep the field. "Now at the sound of my whistle, please mount your brooms," Madam Hooch said, a note in her voice hinting that she didn't trust all of us floating around on brooms. "One, two..." A shrill, piercing note cut through the afternoon air.   
  
I swung one of my legs over the broom and pushed off, the way Will had shown me. The pressure between my legs was a jolt at first, rather like sitting on a rail. But after a while, the broom handle seemed to accomadate itself to fit my body, and was as comfortable as the armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. I only got about ten feet off the ground, but it was better than many of the others. Will was soaring around thirty feet above my head, an expression of ecstasy written plainly on his face. "How do you get higher?" I called to him.  
  
"Pull your broom up!"  
  
Taking his advice, my broom shot up like a cork out of a bottle. The crisp air tingled, nipping at my nose. By the time I reached Will, it was as red as a berry.  
  
"C'mon, Rudolph," Will grinned. "Race you to the end of the field."  
  
"You're on." We bent over the front of our brooms. Being smaller and lighter, I managed to get a lead on Will and was just about to make it to the imaginary finish line when my broom gave a sudden lurch beneath me, propelled by a strong wind. I clung on tightly with both hands, trying not to notice how far away the ground seemed to be. Again, a gust of wind made the broom buck wildly, then stop, vibrating slightly.  
  
Will whooshed passed me. "Ha! I beat you!" On seeing that something was the matter, he made a U-turn and hovered beside me. "What's wrong?"  
  
"My broom is malfunctioning," I muttered thickly, trying not to get sick as the broom spasmodically bucked around. Why wasn't his acting like mine? Surely the wind would effect everybody...  
  
Will stared at my broom before whispering slowly, "Malory, get on mine now. Don't ask questions, just do it."  
  
I tried to climb towards him without relinquishing hold on my own broom, when the thing went flying out of Will's reach, catching me off guard. I jerked over the side of the broom, and soon the only things that kept me from plummeting to the ground were the crooks of my legs. My robes flew over my face, blinding me.  
  
"MS. AIDENN! THIS IS NO TIME FOR STUNTS!"  
  
"I'm not -" I began, but then the broom began speeding towards the ground, much faster than I would have liked. "SLOW DOWN!" I commanded, but the broom just accelerated as the soil rushed up to meet me.  
  
Something strong grabbed onto my wrist and I was jerked into the air. As my broom buried itself into the dirt, Will caught me by the arm and hoisted me with some difficulty onto his own broom. "You okay?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Good." We floated down to the ground. Madam Hooch rushed over immediately.   
  
"What do you think you were doing, Aidenn?" she demanded.  
  
"I couldn't help it!" I shouted, trying to arrange my robes so that the clothes underneath didn't show. "I lost control!"  
  
Madam Hooch paled. "You what?"  
  
"I was doing fine, and then this big gust of wind came up and the broom just started bucking and spinning around." I reached out to hand the broom to her.  
  
"Get away from the broom," Madam Hooch ordered, a new note of panic in her voice. A few other students had gathered around to see what was going on.  
  
I had no idea what was wrong. "But Madam Hooch -"  
  
Will pulled me back. "Just listen to her." I stared up at him, bewildered. His face was drawn, his muddy eyes sparkling with fear.  
  
Madam Hooch blew on her whistle sharply. "CLASS HAS ENDED!" she bellowed. "BACK TO THE SCHOOL!" Madam Hooch was avoiding the broom as much as possible while trying to get it back into the locker rooms. The students that were still in the air floated idly down, laughing and smiling. Cheeks pinched by the wind into a rosy hue, the first flying class of the year made their way back to Hogwarts.  
  
"Are you okay?"   
  
Will blinked and looked at me. "I'm fine. Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, why?"  
  
"Do you know what it takes to interfere with a broom?"  
  
"Not really."  
  
"Dark Arts. Major Dark Arts. Only the most powerful Dark wizards and creatures can interfere with flight of any kind." Will shivered as a strong draft greeted us as we entered the Great Hall. "Do you feel kind of cold?"  
  
"Don't change the subject."  
  
"No, wait, just stand here." I did so, and trembled as a rank smell invaded my senses. It was vaguely familiar, the odor of betrayal and deceit. Wind crawled along my body, numbing it. Frozen throughout my entire body, my very soul, I stood in the corridor perfectly still. Like a deer when it's heard a twig snap behind it. _I'm too afraid to move,_ I thought, _and I'm too afraid to stand still._ Then I scolded myself. _You're being stupid. "I'm too afraid to move, I'm too afraid to stand still." Bullocks. It's only a draft..._  
  
With a loud scream of triumph, the wind picked up its speed and intensity. The double doors slammed shut, a few people still outside. Everyone turned to see what was going on. A couple of tapestries were torn off the walls. Will was yelling something but I couldn't hear him over the wild shrieking of the wind. I could only see his mouth moving as he tried to tell me something. He was pulling on my sleeve, trying to lead me away from the entrance hall, but I stood frozen to my spot.   
  
Suddenly, the noise of the wind seemed to die down. Not that the wind itself stopped however; the walls had been stripped of their tapestries and paintings, suits of armor leaned heavily against the draft. But for some obscure reason, I couldn't hear a thing. Here and there, I could catch a glimpse of someone I knew: Irene and Jasper clinging to a stairwell, shouting something incomprehensible. A few of my roomates, their eyes shut against the unexpected blast.  
  
Clear as a bell, I heard Will's voice yell, "Malory, watch out! Get down!" I snapped to attention and tried to do as he said, but against the heavy current, the best I could to do was fall backwards and feel myself being dragged across the floor. I heard a dull thunk from above my head, and as abruptly as it had started, the hurricane stopped. I blinked and stumbled awkwardly to my feet.  
  
Ashen-faced, Will was staring at a long, rusty sword that stood buried up to its hilt in the heavy oak doors. It seemed to have been ripped out of the grip of one of the suits of armor. I realized with belated horror that if I'd still been standing, it would have pierced through my neck. A thrill of cold fear streamed through my veins as I saw the symbol that had been etched onto the sword.   
  
Will wrapped an arm around my shoulders, as though trying to reassure me. "You scared me so bad," Will muttered. Unsure of what to say, he settled for "God, you had me so worried. I feel like I could kill you."  
  
I moved out of his reach.   
  
"What's going on? What happened?" Professor McGonagall, the Transfiguration professor and the head of Gryffindor, made her way to where Will and I were standing. She surveyed the sword calmly, took in our windswept hair and tight faces. "I'd like an explanation."  
  
Everyone began chattering excitedly, shouting over each other to be heard by McGonagall.  
  
"This tornado just started up in the middle of the hall -"  
  
"I felt like I was going to freeze to death, it was so cold -"  
  
"It smelled funny -"  
  
"First time I've ever prayed in my entire life -"  
  
"Did you see that sword?"  
  
McGonagall turned her attention to Will and I. "And what's your version of the story?" Her eyes were shrewd and quick.  
  
"Exactly what everyone else said," I whispered. I didn't add that Gregori Quinn's family crest had been on the sword that was very nearly the cause of my death.


	7. Default Chapter Title

Over Sea  
  
  
The Dare  
pg 13 for language  
  


  
I spent the rest of the afternoon poring over some books in the library, trying to find the history of Gregori Quinn. But the man - or vampire's history seemed as elusive as the man himself. Practically tearing apart all of the books, I finally came across an old, gray volume that looked as though it had once been coated in silver and someone had pried off the metal coating. A large lump stood out in the center of the cover, and I wiped at it with the corner of my robe.  
  
My heart leapt. A large silver staff, entwined with emerald vines of ivy and a large onyx raven. The Quinn line's crest. The title of the book had been rubbed off.  
  
I carried the book over to the small table I'd reserved for myself, and began reading.   


  
_  
The Lamentable History of the Quinns  
  
  
by Eli Portland, Order of Merlin, Second Class_  
  


  
Within the aged, cracking pages of the large volume, I learned that there were exactly ninety-two direct descendants in the Quinn family tree. Gregori was the youngest - he'd died a century ago at the age of twenty-one, with would now make him one hundred and twenty-one years old. While there were ninety-two Quinn descendants, only seven of them were vampires. Gregori had been bitten by his grandfather. _Pleasant family_, I thought wryly.   
  
"Hey, it's time for dinner. The bell rang a couple minutes ago." I looked up. Jasper stood above me, studying the title of the book I was reading. "'The Lamentable History of the Quinns'? What's that for?"  
  
"Oh, just something I thought looked interesting."  
  
Jasper gave me a skeptical look but let it slide. "Well, come on. It's time to eat. How was the flying lesson?" I noticed that he was avoiding my eyes when he spoke to me, and that he veered around the subject of the sudden wind in the doorway.  
  
"What's the matter?"  
  
Jasper flinched slightly. "Nothing."  
  
"That's bull, and you know it."  
  
Jasper let out a long breath. "There are rumors that you started the wind."  
  
That stopped me short. "_What?_"  
  
"Malory -"  
  
"That's just bullshit!"  
  
"Malory, I know -"  
  
"That is TOTAL bullshit! Do I look crazy to you? Do I look like I have a death wish?"  
  
Striding in front of me in order to prevent me from knocking a large vase off one of the numerous mantelpieces, Jasper placed a hand on each of my shoulders. My mouth shut of its own accord. "Listen. I know it's nonsense. Nearly everyone does."  
  
"_Nearly_ everyone," I couldn't help but interrupt.  
  
"The Slytherins are holding pretty tightly onto the notion."  
  
Frowning, I grumbled loudly, "Assholes."  
  
Grinning, Jasper laughed, "I couldn't have put it better myself. Look, don't worry, no one suspects you of anything except for a few Slytherins." He beckoned towards the Great Hall. "Come on. Let's go get something to eat."  
  
No one seemed to notice my entrance except, as Jasper had said, the Slytherins. Glaring in my direction, ominous mutters and whispers broke out as I walked past their table to where Irene and Will sat.  
  
"Ignore them," Irene said as soon as I sat down, not even looking up from her roll. It seemed she'd already mastered her ignorance of the dark glances in my direction, so I tried to follow her example as best I could.  
  
"Aidenn."  
  
I looked up. Leila stood behind my chair, frowning heavily. Her eyes were pale, almost blue and almost gray but not quite either.   
  
I took a long sip of my water before addressing her. "Yeah?"  
  
"We all know what you did," she said primly.  
  
"What do you mean?" Heat began creeping into my cheeks.  
  
"The wind in the doorway. We all know you made it. And I just wanted to say on behalf of my House -" Her voice broke off under the hard stares of Will and Jasper, and Irene's dangerously bright green eyes. "Keep away from us. Leave. Go home. No one needs you brewing up tornadoes and hexing us when our backs are turned."   
  
'Leave'? 'Go home'? I wasn't some kind of dog, waiting to be trained. "And how do you know that I'm the one who made the wind?" I asked, my voice murderously quiet.   
  
Leila narrowed her eyes. "Don't be stupid. It started as soon as you came in."  
  
Will cleared his throat quietly. "Then that pretty much proclaims her innocence, I'd say." I shot him a frown. Leila raised her eyebrows. "Storms like that can only be started when you're at least sixty feet away from the people who are subjected to it. Otherwise the wizard who started it would be thrown around as much as the rest." Will smiled. "So then if anything, you're more of a suspect than Malory."  
  
Irene smiled into her mug of cocoa. Jasper winked at me.  
  
Leila cast a cool, smug look in my direction. "Oh, that doesn't mean anything. It won't help get rid of the rumors." She examined her perfect nails. "I know something that could, though."  
  
Pretending that Leila wasn't standing right in front of me, treating me as though I were six years her junior, was much harder than I'd hoped. "Oh yeah? Like what?" Irene glanced at me disapprovingly.  
  
"You're too cowardly," Leila said mildly. "You wouldn't last five minutes."  
  
It was my eyes that narrowed now. "Try me."  
  
Pale eyes glinting triumphantly, Leila said, "Spend a night in the Forbidden Forest. The things that live in there aren't powerful enough to hurt an innocent." She pronounced the last word with mocking lips, her hand extended lazily.  
  
Will was shaking his head furiously. Jasper muttered in my ear, "Don't do it, Malory, she's just trying to bait you." Irene's eyes pleaded with me to refuse Leila's dare. I leaned over and grabbed Leila's hand. We both tried to crush each other's fingers, and through gritted teeth I muttered, "You're on."  
  
  
Irene spent the rest of the evening trying to dissuade me. At dusk, I silenced her by striding deliberately to the portrait hole. "Nothing's going to happen. I didn't do anything, so there's no way that I can get hurt, right?"  
  
"Malory, she was _lying -_"  
  
"See you in the morning." Irene sent one last despairing look in my direction before the portrait closed.  
  
Leila was waiting in the main hallway. "So, you decided to show up, did you?" she inquired coldly. Determined not to let my pace slack behind Leila's, I pushed past her, striding ahead until we reached the door that led to the grounds. Leila handed me one end of a string and attached the other end to the doorknob. "You can find your way back at dawn if you follow that."  
  
I nodded curtly, not wanting to thank her, but still grateful for the thought that I had a way back to the castle. Turning on my heel, I ran for the forest, my cloak pulled over my head to protect my face from the biting air. But it was nothing compared to the cold smirk that had branded itself onto Leila's face.  
  
  
As I reached the edge of the forest, it dawned on me for the first time that evening that I'd been a complete idiot. Something about the forest made me shudder. Every speck of earth, every blade of grass, every twig, every pebble, all seemed to be grinning up at me with malicious intent. The very trees seemed to brim over with life and all its dark secrets. Branches reaching desperately for the sky, the groan of their limbs made shivers run up my own. God knew what sort of creatures lived in this place. I shouldered the bag I'd brought and stepped hesitantly into the shadows of the trees.  
  
In the daylight there hadn't been anything truly remarkable about the forest. It had looked exactly like the acres of woods behind our neighbors' houses in Water-At-The-Bridge. But now, the light fading away on the rolling moor, eerie noises that would have been previously unnoticed made me jump every minute. Dark, sinister forms roosted in the canopy of leaves, screeching to each other as they glanced down at me meaningfully.  
  
"_Lumos_," I whispered, putting into action the useful spell Irene had taught me yesterday. The end of my wand grew gradually brighter until it was almost painful to behold. Small, many-legged creatures scuttled away from the beam, and the birds in the trees glared down at me balefully. Pulling my cloak more tightly about my neck, I began exploring the forest. The entire place can't be this gloomy, I reasoned. There has to be some place where I won't feel as though something's going to come out and maim me any second.   
  
After an hour's worth of aimless wandering, rewarded only by the most insignificant sightings of beauty and innocence (a stray lunar moth, a cluster of snowdrops, petals tightly shut against the dark) I gave up and settled down for what looked like the longest, tensest night of my life.  
  
Thunder clapped overhead. Except...it seemed as though it was coming from within the forest. I sat up straighter. "_Nox._"  
  
I immediately wished I hadn't extinguished my wand. A pair of glowing, light blue eyes burned in the hidden leaves of the underbrush. Twigs cracking under unseen feet, and the owner of those eyes began stalking towards me. The moonlight caught the form of the animal, and I swallowed nervously as I took in its image.  
  
It was the size of a cart horse. The head, with some imagination, could have belonged to that of a man, the blue eyes cruel and stupid. A wild, red, tangled lion's mane surrounded this face, and it suddenly grinned as it saw me, exposing three rows of sharp, yellow teeth. It's body was a shade lighter than that of its mane, the color of old blood. Hundreds of stingers protruded from the end of its tail, so that it looked like a murderous, many-pointed mace. Odors wafted to my nose, making me gag. It was the stink of a large, unwashed, and unhygienic animal, but there was a darker, more sinister scent that tinged the general smell of muck.  
  
A serpent's tongue flitted across the thing's lips, then he said the last thing that I wanted to hear come from him:  
  
"Hungry."  
  
If the voices of Ignorance, Malice, Want, and Stupidity had combined themselves, I imagined that they'd sound something like this creature. It made my body tense up, tremble. Two syllables sent all logical thoughts from my mind and made me desperately try to remember a prayer. I couldn't, no matter how hard I racked my brain.  
  
The creature took another step towards me. Cocking his head, he surveyed me and said, "Hungry" once more. It seemed that he had a very limited vocabulary. He narrowed his eyes at me, then grinned once more and said "Food."  
  
Monosyllabic, but not limited.  
  
My paralyzed mind still hadn't been able to come up with a single psalm, so I began singing what seemed closest to a prayer at the time. "Silent night...h-holy night..." My voice quavered as the creature stopped two feet away from my face. "All is c-calm...(one foot away) All is...bright...(his nose was an inch away from mine) Round yon Virgin mother and child..."  
  
"Nice," approved the creature. Then, to my utter horror, it sank its grimy head onto my lap. Stunned, my voice wavered to a halt. The creature opened its eyes and muttered, "More." The claws on its left paw dug into the forest floor. "Now."  
  
I immediately took up where I'd left off. All songs come to a close, however, and Silent Night is far from a lengthy ballad. As I drew closer to the ending, I wondered if the thing would mind if I changed songs. Without drawing breath or pausing as in introduction, I launched into a slightly off-tune version of "Joy to the World." The creature didn't stir. In fact, it looked as though it had fallen asleep.  
  
I have no clear recollection of the songs I sang that night. More worried about the fact that sooner or later, I was going to fall asleep, I sang until the last few stars faded from the velvet backdrop of the sky. As yawns began to punctuate my voice more frequently, I realized that I'd run out of my mental archive of carols, songs, and melodies, and I'd been reduced to humming strains of "I'm-so-tired, I'm-so-tired" or "I'm-gonna-kill-Leila, I swear-to-God...I'm-gonna-kill-Leila, I swear-to-God."   
  
Dawn broke over the horizon. The tangle of hair shifted, the eyes pried themselves open. For one brief moment, the beast reminded me of myself when I got up on the weekends. Then it caught sight of the sun and muttered to itself, "Bright." A mouse crawled across the moss. The animal saw it and flicked its tail. One of the smaller barbs caught in the mouse's side. It was no bigger than a thorn, but the mouse immediately staggered, collapsed, and began convulsing madly. Then it stilled. I gulped and looked at the creature. He yawned, his stinking breath overwhelmed me, and picked himself up to eat his prey.  
  
My knees breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
As soon as he was done, he flicked his tail again, but this time so that he was pointing it at his chest. "Madoc."  
  
I blinked, and sang weakly, "What?"  
  
"Madoc. Nice." Without another word, the creature turned and retreated into the forest.  
  
Slowly, I stood up, trying not to vomit as the stench of the creature departed with its master. My limbs were trembling greatly, and it was with a weak heart that followed the path of the thin cotton cord Leila had given me.   
  
Every step was an effort. Sitting in the exact same position for eight hours wasn't an action that helped my legs recuperate, and I fell at least ten times on the way to the castle for the simple reason that they weren't used to walking. The gently rolling moors were as hard to scale as canyon-sides. Finally, when I felt that if I took one more step my legs would fall apart, I reached the back entrance and turned the doorknob.  
  
It moved perhaps a fourth of an inch to the right before it stuck. Someone had locked the door that night, and there was no doubt in my mind as to who it was. I tried using the unlocking charm that Jasper had tried to teach me, but to no avail. "Damn." I squinted my eyes, searching desperately for another human being. No one. I was trapped.  
  
Having nothing else to do, I began wandering around the grounds, drinking in the sight of the grass rippling in the light wind, the sun's rays coming stronger over the hillside. There seemed to be several gardens near the back of the castle. One seemed to be a basic vegetable garden, with cornstalks as tall as trees, tomatoes as large as small boulders, heads of lettuce the size of cars, several sprays of carrot leaves shooting out of the earth as grandly as fountains. There was also an herb garden, containing several herbs that I recognized as rue, thyme, basil, sage, rosemary, and dill, as well as several that I'd never seen before. One plot of earth birthed some of the strangest plants I'd ever seen. A tall, leathery fern with leaves as brittle and thin as old parchment caught my attention. To my shock, the leaves had writing on them, clear and black, and on reading them I found that they were several excerpts from different books. I spent several minutes trying to figure out which books a few of the leaves came form, but gave up eventually, looking for other things to examine. What looked like a lamb grazed in the corner, but when I leaned down to stoke it I saw that its hind feet were growing into the soil. Its eyes were glowing, shiny berries, its wool as fine as thistledown. I recognized it vaguely from my Care of Magical Creatures textbook. A Barbary Lamb.  
  
Far off, I could make out the last plot of earth, harboring only one plant. Curious as to what sort of plant would be so important that a whole garden was reserved for it, I walked over to get a better look. Then froze as recognition set in: it was a bush of the same roses Jim had given to Snape, the flowers new and several still in the process of blooming. I noticed now that the petals seemed different from other roses, reminiscent of clover leaves. Making sure that no one was watching, I reached my fingers over to pick one of the younger blooms.  
  
"MALORY AIDENN!"  
  
I whirled around in shock. Professor Snape stood before me, his eyes hard and stern. "Lovely morning, isn't it?" I called out weakly.  
  
"Are you aware that the gardens are _strictly out of bounds?_" Snape asked, his voice low and strained.   
  
"Um...no," I squeaked, waiting for the inevitable three syllables to come.  
  
Snape glowered at me. "Detention..." His voice wavered as he saw the roses. "You...you can see them?"  
  
Confused as any village idiot, I asked "What?"  
  
Snape gestured impatiently towards the roses. "The flowers, girl, for God's sake. Can you see them or can't you?"  
  
"Of course I can see them!" I snapped. "I'm not blind!"  
  
"What do they look like?"  
  
Slightly puzzled and rather exasperated, I described the golden, rosy blossoms, answering Snape's more specific questions such as "How many petals does the one on the outside have?" easily, all the while wondering when I was going to be punished. Snape was staring at me with a strange look on his face. Was it apprehension? Revulsion? The solemnity with which he led me back to the school made another candidate pop up in my mind: respect.  
  
I brushed it aside immediately. Professor Snape didn't respect. He loathed, he punished. He didn't respect.  
  
Shooing Peeves away with a simple wave of his wand, he led me up to his office. I closed my eyes. The students who'd ended up in Snape's office never met with a good turn. Some of them, I'd heard, never made it out.  
  
"Sit," he commanded, pointing to one of the high-backed chairs in front of his desk. I sat and looked at my surroundings. After a few glances, I decided that my feet were much less nauseating.  
  
Snape was searching desperately for something in his desk, shuffling papers and often throwing portfolios out of his wooden filing cabinet. With a sudden, "Ha!," Snape pulled out a weathered, cracked, and yellowing sheaf of parchment. Then he strode over to the fireplace and threw a handful of what looked shimmering soot onto the logs, and exclaimed "Mordacai! I need to speak with you."  
  
I stared. Flames had shot up as soon as the dust touched the wood, and they were now wavering, spinning, revolving in one continuous spiral. A vague shape seemed to darken the brightness, the outline became sharper, and the long man whom I'd seen on the train, as well as around the school occasionally, climbed out. His eagle was perched on his shoulder, to Snape's distaste.   
  
"Do you carry that animal around everywhere you go, Mordacai?" Snape muttered as he motioned for the man to sit in a chair.  
  
"You're the one who called me here, Severus," he said easily. "You're hardly the person to be complaining of my company."  
  
"It's not for my sake that I asked you here," Snape barked out. He placed a hand on the back of my chair. "Malory has seen them." Mordacai looked blank. "The roses, Mordacai! The roses of the Elder Tree! The ones that we've been _hiding!_"  
  
It was as though a lamp had been lit inside Professor Mordacai's face. He stared at me. "Did you really see them?"  
  
"Of course I saw them," I said, but a bit more nervously than before. He was making me feel as doomed as the animal in the forest.  
  
Professor Mordacai was staring hard at me, his light gray eyes turning so pale they looked silver. The first bell rang, jangling my already shaken nerves.  
  
I stood to leave, but Professor Mordacai motioned for me to keep seated. I didn't sit down, but I stood in place, while Professor Mordacai tried to figure out how to tell me what Snape was so anxious about.  
  
"Ms. Aidenn, are you aware of the properties of the roses that you say you saw?"  
  
"No," I said bluntly.  
  
"Have you ever seen them before?"  
  
"Yes. My friend Jim sold them to Professor Snape."  
  
Professor Mordacai raised his eyebrow quizzically. "Jim?"  
  
"One of her muggle friends," Snape explained impatiently.  
  
"Ah. The roses of the Elder Tree are one of the harder-to-obtain ingredients for a Gathering Elixir. They're incredibly old - your friend no doubt cut them from a bush growing near his house. We had to hide them because they're the base for both evil and good potions and spells, or curses, as the case may be, and store the highest reservoir of power."  
  
"But they were in plain sight," I interrupted. "How could they have been hidden?"  
  
Professor Mordacai sent me a piercing look. "Your name is Malory, if I remember correctly?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"The roses are also a herald of doom. Your name and your sighting signifies the rise of the Dark."  
  
His words sent shivers up my arms. Jasper had said that about a month ago. "So what's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Professor Mordacai smiled dryly. "The end of the world."  
  
I wondered why his answer didn't surprise me too much.


	8. Default Chapter Title

  
  
Disclaimer: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley and any other tangentially mentioned characters created by J. K. Rowling remain her copyrighted property, as well as the copyrighted property of her   
publisher, etc. No copyright infringement is intended. All original characters created by the author remain her property.   
  
  
  


  
Over Sea  
  
  
  
Prophecies  
  
  


  
Silence enveloped the room, thick as fog. Professor Mordacai and Professor Snape were both staring at me gravely. Their eyes were solemn, sad even.  
  
I couldn't help it. I burst out laughing.  
  
Professor Snape raised an eyebrow at the sudden, half-hysterical gales of laughter that cut through the room. "May I ask what you find so amusing, Miss Aidenn?"  
  
"Y-you hoo actually think that just b-because I saw ah ha a b-bunch o-o-of roses -" I snorted uncontrollably, then tried my best to regain my composure, without much success "- the w-w-world is going to blow ho ho up?" I sank back into one of the armchairs, still guffawing. "That's ridiculous! Wow, so I saw a rosebush. That doesn't mean anything!"  
  
Gazing at me with all the patience of a long-suffering parent, Professor Mordacai murmured, "I suppose this is just you're way of whistling in the dark?"  
  
"No!" I protested. There was a short pause. Belatedly, I realized the truth in the professor's words; somehow I knew that he was telling the truth, but reasonably enough, I didn't want to accept it. No one wants to accept the inevitable. Hopelessly I asked, "So what are we supposed to do? Just wait for nuclear war? Or a meteor? Or the earthquakes and the rivers of blood and -"  
  
"We wait. Not for death but for help."  
  
I glanced up. "Help?" Mordacai nodded. "Who?"  
  
The eagle fluttered noisily to the back of the desk chair. Professor Mordacai explained, "It won't come immediately. I believe it was a muggle who said 'And this is how the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper.' The end won't be a sudden thing, Malory, a flash of light in the cosmos and then oblivion. The world will end in stages, just as help will also come in stages."  
  
"But that didn't answer my question."  
  
Mordacai sat down in his chair. "It does, Malory. The first savior will come gradually. He, or she, as the case may be, won't just pop out of thin air."  
  
I pounced on one of his words. "The _'first'_ savior?"   
  
"How many times must we go through this?" Snape cried, with the exasperation of anxiety. "The world is supposed to end in stages, and the happening of such is supposed to be prevented in stages. Pierre Champmathieu prophecized them, if you want to read up on it later." He sounded as though he wished I would, to save him the trouble of explaining it. "There are three intervals: the first is The Gathering. Supposedly, this is when the opposing sides begin to gather and strengthen their forces. The second is The Summons; it is inferred that good will win. If not, then, the third stage simply won't come. This is when all the wicked mortals join forces with evil, and the good forces are supposed to stop them." Snape's voice sounded doubtful. "The third stage is the Final Battle." He cocked an eyebrow. "Rather self-explanatory. Again, Champmathieu predicted that good would win, and 'the Wild Hunt will drive the demons from the earth,' but..." His voice trailed off uncertainly.  
  
An acutely uncomfortable silence settled in. "What's the Wild Hunt?" I asked at length.  
  
Mordacai cleared his throat before warming to the subject. "The Wild Hunt. Surely, even living with muggles, you've heard of it? Perhaps under a different name? The Sluagh, the Chasse Gayere, the Wish-Hounds? No? The Wild Hunt is a collection of huntsmen and their hounds, all lost souls. They travel like a flocks of birds, and are only heard on the wildest nights. They're neither evil nor good, and serve the purposes of both sides. They hunt the souls of the dead, the souls of those cursed by innocents, whether they themselves are innocent or not." The professor eyed me thoughtfully. "You'll see one, before you're time on earth is through, Malory. And you'll know what to do."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Run." His eyes had become deadly serious, and his face showed no humor. "Run as fast as you can, Malory. The Wild Huntsmen rarely show interest in the living, but when they do, you won't be running for your life. You'll be running for your soul."  
  
Again there was an uncomfortable silence, which I broke miserably, suggesting, "I suppose I'd better get to class then."  
  
Snape turned to the other professor. "i'll escort her to her first class."  
  
Mordacai nodded as he wrote the note excusing my tardiness, then tied it to his eagle's leg. The creature screeched in protest, condescending even during this sudden show of indignity, but he flew out the door as soon as it was opened, only a few feet in front of Snape and I. As I reached the door to Transfigurations, Snape stopped me. "You realize that this must remain confidential. You understand that if the other students found out it would be chaos." I nodded. "Good. We'll keep you informed." Oddly enough, I didn't feel as grown-up as I ought to. This new revelation was one that I'd been better off not knowing, I thought. As I began to open the door, to admit both the impatient eagle and myself, Snape stopped me yet again. "Oh, and Miss Aidenn?"  
  
I turned towards him.  
  
"You'll be serving detention with me at eight, for wandering out of bounds." His footsteps echoed down the hall as I glared hatefully in his direction.  
  
Professor McGonagall sent a steely look in my direction. The class was working on how to turn a nail into a caterpillar, but their efforts were stalled as I tentatively made my way in. Professor Mordacai's eagle took this as a signal to soar grandly to McGonagall's desk and hold his leg out stiffly. Her face went incredibly pale when she read the note. She hastily wrote a reply, sent the eagle back to its owner, and partnered me up with Will, who'd been unsuccessful in his efforts to get his nail to sprout legs and crawl across his desk. For the rest of the period, McGonagall avoided my eyes.  
  
Will grinned broadly as he saw me. "So how did it go?"  
  
"What?" I asked wearily, feeling as though I'd aged ten years in the past hour.  
  
"The dare. Did it go okay?"  
  
"Absolutely fine," I yawned, "considering I had to stay up all night with a manticore's head on my lap."  
  
Writers talk about it all the time in books, and people always say it, but I've never seen anyone's jaw drop until that day. Will resembled a fish, gaping at me as though I were growing another head. "A what?"  
  
I'd long ago figured out what the creature in the woods had been, picking up pieces of information I remembered from books and fairy tales. "A manticore."  
  
"But - Malory, that's impossible - manticores, they live on human flesh. If you'd come within the sight range of a manticore, you'd be dead by now. Poisoned by one of those darts in their tails. How on earth...?"  
  
Concentrating most of my strength on the inanimate nail on the desk in front of us, I slowly recited an incredibly abridged version of the previous night's events. Will's eyes widened with every word, and by the time the bell rang he was staring at me with the utmost awe and suspicion dancing in his eyes. I'd managed to get the nail to turn fairly pudgy and green, but I couldn't persuade a single toe to grow from its side.  
  
Irene almost knocked me over in the hallway. "Malory! You're safe!" she cried, her arms cutting off my air supply. I smiled weakly and wriggled out of her grasp. With Will and Irene on either side of me, we made our way to lunch.   
  
"Boo!"  
  
Startled, I jumped back, then growled as I saw who it was. "Dammit, Jasper, you scared the hell out of me!"  
  
"Sorry."  
  
"Don't do it again, you hear me!"  
  
Jasper glanced at me, concerned. "Malory, are you feeling all right?"  
  
"Of course I'm feeling all right," I snapped. "Why do you ask?"  
  
He glanced at the others nervously. "You seem a little jumpy. Did something happen last night, in the forest?"  
  
"I should say she did," Will cut in before I could open my mouth. "She ran in with a manticore."  
  
_"What?"_  
  
While Will repeated what I'd told him in Transfiguration, I pondered the words of Mordacai and Snape. The world was going to end in stages. The very concept of that was strange. Armagaeddon never conjured up images of gradual darkness before. Chaos, anarchy, fire and brimstone, sure. I remembered what Professor Mordacai had said. "'And this is how the world ends, not with a bang, but with a whimper,'" I murmured.  
  
"What Malory?"  
  
"Nothing," I said quickly. "C'mon, let's go eat. I'm starving."  
  
The kitchen had long ago suited itself to my taste, and while the others ate their chicken - and - dumpling stew, I sipped my vegetable minestrone uneasily. Leaving the bowl half finished, I told the others I was going to go to the library and excused myself.  
  
My feet took me in a detour around the halls, through the corridors, dodging around a few rooms where malicious cackles gave testimony to Peeves' presence. I avoided the library entirely, instead meandering through the catacombs of the lower levels, exploring the dungeons of the basement, and accidentally going up a trick staircase to the watchtower wing.  
  
The watchtower wing was the most mysterious wing in the castle, so named because it was attatched to the tall, ivory bell-tower on one side and the observatory on the other. It had the shortest hallway, in terms of distance, but the most doors. It had hundreds of doors lining each wall on either side, leaving around two inches space in between them. But there was no need to worry about space. In astronomy, we'd often venture into the second door to the right, and as soon as we entered the space of the room seemed to expand to accomodate the occupants.  
  
I turned to go down the stairs to rejoin my friends, but it appeared that the staircase had grown bored and wandered off in search of more stirring things to do. Anxiety spread through my chest. There were only a few more minutes left until the bell rang. There was no other way out opf the watchtower wing without the stairs, except through the observatory, and that would take too much time. I looked around, slightly panicked. Maybe one of the doors...  
  
I was about the yank the nearest one open when I stopped. Hadn't Dumbledore said not to enter a few doors, or a row of them, or something like that, at the beginning of the year? Yes, he had, I was sure of it. But which one? The myriad of portals seemed to laugh at me, mocking my efforts to remember the certain row or pair.  
  
Finally, as I heard the warning bell go off in the distance, I tugged one of the doors on the left open.  
  
An utter vacuum greeted me in place of stairs. There was no word to describe the color of that void. The black of shadows, the depths of an ocean cave, the color of an executioner's hood, the murky levels of space, all were inadequate in comparison with the chilling lack of color that inhabited the nothingness that lay in that door. No draft came from it. It was as utterly empty as Scrooge's heart. The void settled on me and weighed me down until I felt as though I could scream from the sheer burden of it. I tried to close the door but found that I lacked the strength. I had the eerie feeling that something was passing through the large gap in the threshold.  
  
Suddenly, the door was sucked back in place. I stumbled as my support was pulled away from me and landed on my hands and knees to keep from falling entirely. Shaken, I brushed myself off, and compelled by some omniscient hand, looked up.  
  
A tall, gaunt figure stared back at me with nonexistent eyes.  
  
It stood starkly against the background of white blocks of stone. It resembled a man, but there was no shape. It was not an outline, or a two-dimensional thing. It was a sillhouette of the same black oblivion that had filled the door, in the form of a man. A creature of nothingness, waiting to pull me into its clutches. Then  
  
(**_malory_**)  
  
primitive, animal fear exploded in my mind, and I let my instincts take over.  
  
(it knows me, it knows me)  
  
I ran with the swiftness of knowing that my pursuer was two feet behind me at all times, that if I looked back I was lost. I've never been much of a runner. I honestly don't see the point of pumping your legs until your breath starts coming in short gasps and your lungs begin to burn. But if that creature had been chasing me every time I'd run the mile at Waterton Elementary, I would have been awarded first place. Strange, alien roars seemed to fill the air  
  
(**_come to me, let me have you, come come come -_**)   
  
yet the walls echoed with silence. Sobbing for breath in ragged gasps, I bounded down the stairs.   
  
My shoelace caught on one of the stones and I went tumbling through nothing  
  
(no, not nothing, something, there had to be something -)  
  
until my forehead hit one of the stones. Painful starbursts of color filled my vision, and I stuggled desperately to pick myself up.  
  
(it's coming...have to run...it's coming...)  
A sudden, dull aching formed at the back of my temples, working towards the front of my head, until my entire consciousness was enveloped by the throbbing pain. Something wet trickled over my forehead. I wondered stupidly where the water had come from.  
  
(have to...run...it's...)  
  
A comforting, veiling mist settled over my eyes, my mind, every sense, blocking out the sight of that nothing, protecting me from its absent presence. I was vaguely aware of someone  
  
(something, not nothing, a something, someone -)  
  
standing over me, bending down, before I fell into the comforting realm of a comatose sleep.  
  
  
A/N: The things in parantheses are supposed to be what Malory's subconsciously thinking, or thinking she's hearing. That probably made no sense whatsoever, but I'm sure you'll be able to cope. The Wild Hunt mentioned in this chapter will not appear until Malory's seventh year (yes, I am continuing the story till her graduation!*ignores the sudden round of groans*). I'm also seriously considering writing a chronicle of her fourth and seventh year.


End file.
